GL
by lyorah
Summary: A little story that all started as a one-shot. Set in the middle of the wonderful FusionFall invasion, Dexter, the PPG, Mandark, Ben, and other characters along the way battle their way through the adventures that I somehow managed to think up.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1

Dexter sighed, pressing his pen sourly to the paper. Sure taking his sweet time about this, he thought. Mandark had approached him a few days ago, hesitantly, as if he had been almost afraid of him. Then, he had slipped him a note saying "Meet me at your lab." Dexter had almost refused, quite hostilely at that, until he saw there was a small "Please?" written in spiky blue handwriting beneath it. He had frowned, then looked up at Mandark, who had merely shaken his head and stalked off, a sour, contemplating look on his face. That had spiked his curiosity, and then here he was, waiting nearly half an hour after Mandark had said he would arrive.

Knock. Knock.

He shot up, nearly whacking his head on one of the ubiquitous robotic arms he had stationed around his workspace to help with maintenance. He whirled around, glasses falling off, cursing silently and dropping to his knees, purple-clad fingers flitting over the ground. He heard footsteps and instinctively looked up, only to have his glasses fall onto his nose, slipped in place by an unsure-looking Mandark. Mandark scrambled backward, falling over in his haste.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, quickly standing up and brushing himself off. "I... you just dropped them and..."

"It's fine. Stop stuttering," Dex grumbled, picking himself up off of the floor. Why is he so late?

Mandark pulled back, face showing surprise, then something almost akin to hurt, then regaining his usual composure all in less than a second or two. Dexter frowned at him, then turned to his computer.

"Dex- uh, Dexter?" he muttered slowly.

"Yes, Mandark?" Dexter answered in clipped tones. Spit it out already, Mandark. I have things to do.

Mandark hesitated again. "I- er..."

"Mandark, what is it?" Dexter never even looked up from his keyboard. What is he...

"I... um... nothing... I just..."

"Mandark, I was under the impression this was important. If it is not, then get out of my lab." Annoying as DeeDee...

Dexter heard a high-pitched keening noise behind him. He jumped and twisted around, staring at Mandark, who had clamped both hands over his mouth. Was that him??

Dexter suddenly broke into laughter. Mandark slowly joined in, and soon they were both hanging on to each other to keep themselves from falling over. As the gales slowly subsided, Dexter looked up, ears turning red as he realized they were nose-to-nose staring each other in the eye, with their hands on each other's shoulders. Mandark pulled back so suddenly that Dexter toppled forward, losing his glasses again. He dropped down and began to search for them. "Dammit," Dexter muttered as his hand brushed against his glasses, knocking them farther away. He sighed and sat back, pulling his gloves off and sending his fingers across the floor. He heard Mandark sigh, then jumped a moment later as Mandark shouted his name. "Yes?"

Mandark paused. "Um..."

"Mandark, I kind of need to find my glasses, you know." Hurry up.

Dexter yelped as Mandark grabbed the front of his shirt. "Mandark! What is it? No- hey!" He protested as Mandark yanked him swiftly to his feet.

"Iswearifthisdoesn'tworkI'llneverbotheryouagain," Mandark blurted out, then took a breath and pressed their lips together.

Dexter gasped, stiffening at the sudden contact. Oh, dear goodness...

Part 2

Mandark slowly pulled back, eyes narrowed, glasses slipping down his nose a little, ears flaming red. "I... I- uh... ss..." he mumbled.

Dexter stood there bemusedly for a moment, then very slowly took a step backward. "Uh, Mandark, I, uh..." _Crack._ Dexter swore, making a face. "That was my glasses, wasn't it."

Mandark's shoulders slumped. "Yeah," he said quietly, picking the now-cracked lenses up. "Sorry." A robotic arm plucked the glasses out of his hand and settled them on a small tray.

Dexter sighed and reached a hand out towards the blob that was Mandark. "Help me a bit, here? I have an extra pair in one of those drawers." Dexter motioned toward what he believed was the desk.

Mandark sniggered as Dexter gestured toward a stack of boxes on the other side of the room. "You really can't see without those, can you," he asked, stifling his laughter and leading Dex gently over to the desk.

"Er, no, I can't. That's kind of why I _wear_ them," Dexter said disdainfully.

Mandark shrugged, then remembered that his grudging companion couldn't see that he did so. "So, uh, where are they?"

Dexter sighed. "Uh..." He reached out and brushed his fingers across the surface of the desk. He bent down, fingertips skimming along the side until he came to a drawer. He yanked it open and began rummaging around. "In here somewhere..." he muttered.

Meanwhile, Mandark had picked up the broken pair from the tray. He tapped the cracked lenses, then slipped his own glasses off and peered experimentally through the concave lens. He frowned, squinting at the even blurrier image presented to him. "You're farsighted?" he asked.

Dexter sighed and turned around. "These are my old ones..." he muttered, slipping a pair of half-moon glasses onto his nose. "Yeah. So?" He ran a finger over the rim of the glasses and sighed.

"Nearsighted. Need to get a new prescription, too..." Mandark murmured, more to himself than anything.

"Huh." Dexter walked over to him and grabbed the cracked glasses off his nose. "What are you doing?"

Mandark jumped. "N- nothing. Just looking at your glasses."

Dexter sighed. "So, uh..."

Mandark mentally smacked himself. _Temporary distraction over with,_ he thought. "Um."

Dexter glanced at the floor, then back at Mandark hesitantly. "Ah-" he cleared his throat. "Awkward as it may be, there seems to be something we aren't addressing..."

Mandark looked back up at him, eyes half-closed. "Dexter, wait. Before you say anything more. I... have to tell you something." He paused, steeling himself. "I... I know I'm an idiot, not in terms of intelligence, of course"

"Of course," Dexter muttered.

Ignoring that comment, Mandark continued. "-but nonetheless, I'm sick of mentally berating myself for allowing this to continue any longer." His voice faltered. "Eh... what I'm really trying to say here is that..." He closed his eyes, swallowing the words along with his tongue. He just couldn't seem to pull himself to say what was on his mind.

Meanwhile, Dexter was reeling. All the events of the past few minutes had finally seemed to catch up with his brain, and his mind was all sorts of surprised thoughts and whirling notions.

Mandark stepped backward, almost immediately colliding with the wall. He kept his eyes closed, resting his head back. "Ss-" he coughed. "Can... can you at least say something before I hyperventilate?"

Dexter stared at him. "Uhm, do you mean to say, that is, that, uh... y-limenow?" Dexter didn't really have his tongue wrapped around the words before they came out. He rubbed the back of his neck in aggravation.

Mandark's eyes snapped open. _Please, please, please, just..._ "Dexter, I- I know. I'm an idiot for this. But... you're just... Dex, you're the only person near my age that is even remotely close to my vast intellect. I... hating you just sort of... oh, forget it. Dexter, I think... I'm in love with you."

Dexter's eyes widened when Mandark called him Dex, then even more (if possible) at Mandark's last sentence. "M- Mandark, I... I don't know what to say," he said evasively. He glared at the desk, avoiding Mandark's eyes.

"I... sorry. I just... yeah," Mandark said. "I'm stupid. I'm an idiot. I did the one thing I shouldn't have. But... I did, and... I can't help but wonder... do you-? I mean, is there-...?" His voice drifted off into silence, and he watched Dexter intently, inhaling sharply as the boy spoke up.

"Mandark, I... when did this start...?" he asked, sounding confused.

_Damn, he's cute when he blushes,_ Mandark thought. "What? Oh... I... a while ago. Dexter, please, _please_, don't get all weirded out on me now..." he pleaded. "I just... you've never felt this way about anyone like this. You don't understand," he muttered. "I... couldn't take it. Weeks and weeks, maybe even month after month, I watched you out of the corner of my eye... then remember in gym class you hurt your foot? I think that... was when I realized it..." He pinched his ear, a habit. He'd said too much already. He scuffed a foot on the floor. "I... I'm sorry, Dexter. I... I've waited for a while for this to die out, to go back to our usual rivalry... but... it didn't. And this whole time I've been shouting insults at you and renting pings to overload your network server and firing laser cannons, but... I can't do this anymore. I couldn't- can't... bear to think what would happen if I hurt you." Mandark sighed, resting his head on the wall again. "I'm sorry."

Silence. Then... "I'm not."

Mandark looked over at him, glasses slipping down his nose. "Hhh- huh?" he stammered.

"I'm not sorry," Dexter repeated quietly. His eyes fell half-closed, looking down.

"What... do you mean?" Mandark could feel his heart beating faster. _He doesn't mean..._

"I apologize, Mandark, but... I don't feel that way. I..." Dexter's voice faded out, and he didn't look up from the ground.

Mandark's glasses fell off as he jerked upright. "Wh- what?"

"Mandark, I could never... like someone I've hated for years. I'm not sure that's going to change, and... I apologize for that. But..."

"B-... But what?" Mandark could barely force the words past his lips.

"I'm not sorry." It was barely audible. "You... should go now." Dexter turned to the keyboard, pushing the half-moon glasses back on his nose.

"I..." Mandark stood there for a moment. "Yeah, I.. guess I should," he said quietly, voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll just... go now." With that, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving a pair of cracked glasses and a single tear on the lens.


	2. Chapter 2

Mandark sat at his desk morosely. He shoved a few papers away, glaring at the blueprints for his next project, then shoving that away too. He thunked his head down on his desk, then sighed, only then realizing did he leave his glasses at Dexter's lab.

Silence. Nothing.

What was he waiting for? Nothing anymore. After months of wondering- he'd lied, he'd realized it earlier than that- and his love didn't love him. In fact, still hated him. The thought hurt more than if he'd shot himself with the laser cannon instead. And then finally asking- only to find that he didn't even feel sorry for hurting he, Mandark, this much-!

He apologized, though, said a voice in the back of his head. Mandark groaned and thunked his head down on his desk that much harder.

Meanwhile, Dexter was typing furiously, trying to focus on only one thing. Kind of hard when your "eternal" nemesis had just declared their love for you.

Dexter stopped typing abruptly, rubbing a hand over his lips. _He kissed me._ Dexter's dumbfounded brain still hadn't overcome that fact. He kissed me, he _kissed_ me. The thought repeated itself over and over in his head. Dexter sighed, rubbing his nose, then his eyes, slipping the glasses off. _What do I do now..._ he thought mundanely. Sitting there pondering, he didn't hear the slight click of someone's heels on the floor. However, when the sound came close enough, he jumped up and looked around. "Who's there?" he asked. Silence followed. Pausing, he slowly stood up and took a step forward. "Mandark? Are you still here?" The almost exasperated tone he said that in wasn't one he meant to use, not after what he'd told Mandark. If what his nemesis had said was true, then Dexter had pretty much just smashed his feelings to smithereens.

Another clicking procession of footsteps came from his right. "Hello?" Dexter whirled to look at where he believed the sound was coming from. Still no one. Dexter took a careful step backward, colliding almost immediately with a tall, slightly squishy something.

"DEXTEEEERRRR!!" High-pitched, destruction-prone, and quite beautiful nonetheless, Dexter's sister enveloped him in a huge hug. "HII!!"

At the sound of his name, the young genius jumped about a foot in the air, almost falling over. "DeeDee! What are you doing here!?" His accent mangled the words, getting thicker with each word.

DeeDee giggled, clapping her hands. "I love your accent, Dexter. It's funny."

"You've said that every singe day this week. For the last time, I don't have an accent!! I speak the same way you do!"

DeeDee smiled, shaking her head. "Tsk, tsk. Stop saying that. It's-" she paused, one slender finger poised on her lips. "I don't know. Australian? No, that can't be it." She shrugged. "Look what I got!!!" she squealed, grabbing an ankle and yanking it up over her head, wobbling, then grabbing on to the desk.

Dexter winced, trying to edge over to his computer. "What am I looking at?"

DeeDee dropped her leg, looking almost disappointed. "My shoes, silly."

Dexter snorted. _She calls_me_silly._ "Shoes?"

"Yes. Loooookk!!" She pulled her other leg up, pressing her cheek to her knee.

Dexter rolled his eyes at his sister. "Excellent."

"You didn't even look," she pouted. "See? They're all shiny and they have little points on the end-" she tapped the heel "-See?"

Dexter sighed and nodded. "Yes, very elegant. Would you please leave?"

"Why was Mandark in here?" DeeDee asked suddenly, allowing her leg to fall back to a more comfortable position (draped over her forearm).

Dexter froze. "Eh, no reason," he said dismissively. "Out." He flapped a hand at her tiredly.

"Someone called for ya," DeeDee added, ignoring his requests completely.

Dexter turned to look at her. "Who?"

"Didn't say. Manny or something." She went back to polishing her new shoes. "See, these aren't the best shoes for ballet, but Mom got them for me so I decided to wear them anyway!" she exclaimed brightly.

Dexter groaned. "Didn't say, but you know it was Manny." He grumbled something about incompetence, telephones, and something about a Disney monopoly.

"Caller ID, Dex," DeeDee said, shaking a finger at him. "You should know, you were the one who hooked the caller ID up."

"Oh." He blinked. "I guess." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I did?"

"Yes. Two months ago." DeeDee stuck her tongue out, focusing on balancing on one foot while she pulled her other leg up again.

"Oh." Dexter racked his brains, trying to remember. "I don't remember that," he said finally. "I didn't even know we had caller ID."

DeeDee shrugged. "You've been spending too much time in your lab," she declared.

"Out, please, DeeDee. If you go now, I'll play piano for you later."

DeeDee squealed happily. "Okay!!" She ran towards the exit, laughing and falling over on her new heels.

Dexter sighed as she left, shaking his head and turning back to the computer. He sighed, stepping over to his computer once more. Again, the thought resounded in his head: He kissed me. Shaking his head against the thoughts, he tapped a few keys and pulled up the recent call logs. _So we_ do _have caller ID._


	3. Chapter 3

Mandark sighed, not having moved for the past half-hour. At the tapping on the glass, he slowly raised himself to a sitting position, wincing as he rubbed his sore neck. He turned to his window, standing up stiffly. He walked over and peered outside. Nothing. Not that he really could see anything, it was a wonder how he managed to get home without running into something, say, a streetlamp or mailbox, or trip over something.

Tap, tap. The sound continued. Mandark turned back to the window, seeing something glinting on the ledge. He pushed the window up and ran his fingers over the lower panel. His hand hit something cold and plastic, and he grabbed it. He squinted at it, then realized it was his glasses. He slipped then on his nose, sighing as everything came into sharp focus. He frowned, looking back at the window. There was a small note there, written in slanting black pen.

_Meet me at the park later. Around 6:30._

At the bottom, there was a small _Please?_ scribbled in the corner. Mandark stared at it, recognizing Dexter's handwriting. He walked over to his bed and sat down, throwing the covers off. He stared at the ceiling. _Now what?_

Mandark glanced at his watch. 7:17, read the glowing blue numbers. _Where is he?_ Mandark had gotten there half an hour early, eager to see Dexter again, although slightly disinclined to do so given their earlier encounter. He sighed and sat down on one of the benches. He looked around, and sat back to wait. Five more minutes passed. Just as Mandark was about to stand up, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and whirled around. "Dex?"

Dexter stood there, one hand on Mandark's shoulder, the other on his hip, a smirk on his face. "Scare you?" he asked.

"No, of course not!" Mandark said defensively. "No!"

Dexter chuckled. "Yeah, of course. Glad you came." He sighed and sat down next to him.

"So... what did you want me here for?" Mandark asked hesitantly.

Dexter's smirk grew wider. "To talk."

Mandark waited for him to say more. "About..."

"Earlier." That smirk never disappeared. "How are you feeling? Honestly."

Mandark opened his mouth, then shut it. "Uh..." He rubbed his neck. "Honestly, not too good."

"Upset? Even be- um, more accurately, angry, perhaps?" The smirk disappeared, only to be replaced by a half-inquiring, half-morose expression.

"Maybe... well, a little." Mandark's gaze fell to his feet. "Why?"

Dexter was silent for a moment. "Just because." He gazed across the park, going silent.

"Why, really, did you call me out here?" Mandark asked, voice sounding rougher than he meant.

"I... not sure. Just thought I might apologize again. I was a little blunt, I admit." Dexter sighed, leaning back. "I... there's a lot going on currently," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Mandark raised his eyebrows. "Like what? I mean... not trying to pry or anything..." he said quickly.

Dexter paused. "I know." He rested his head back on the bench. "Just a little difficult to take care of. What with all this trouble... especially financially. With the market down and everything, I'm having a hard time making sure I can secure enough production hours to meet next month's deadline..." He ran a hand through his hair again.

Mandark glanced up. He raised a hand, then hesitated before it touched his companion's shoulder, finally letting it fall back to his side. Dexter gave a dry sound, a grim smile flitting across his face for a moment. Mandark took a breath, then exhaled. "Sorry 'bout all that," he finally muttered lamely.

Dexter chuckled. "No matter, really. I'm sure I'll figure something out..." He sighed, drifting a hand across Mandark's. Mandark stiffened, surprised.

"Dex?"

"Huh?"

"Are... you said you weren't... sorry earlier," Mandark said quietly.

Dexter's hand withdrew sharply. "I know," he said abruptly.

Mandark recoiled at the harsh reaction. "A... are... you okay?"

Dexter snorted. "I just smashed YOUR feelings, and you're asking ME if I'M okay?" He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, leaning forward. "I... no, I'm not," he finished quietly.

It was Mandark's turn to gaze sightlessly across the park. He exhaled smoothly, then finally reached up and rubbed Dexter's shoulder. To his surprise, Dexter didn't pull away. Shoulders slumped, and he leaned back against the bench again. Mandark looked down again, then ran a hand slowly along Dexter's arm until he got to his wrist, gently taking it between his fingers. Dexter made no move to stop him. "You're tense," Mandark murmured, rubbing Dexter's gloved palm.

Dexter sighed. "I know. Lot going on, as I said." He settled more comfortably on the bench (which also happened to be closer to Mandark). He yawned.

Mandark continued staring at Dexter's hand. "Could..." His voice trailed off, and he tugged meaningfully on the tip of Dexter's glove. Dexter shrugged. Mandark almost smiled, then quickly regained his composure, slipping the purple glove off carefully. He set it aside, then gently spread the redhead's small fingers out across Mandark's own palm.

"Mandark?" Dexter's voice was sudden and soft.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean what I said back there." Voice perfectly even, staring blankly across the pond in the middle of the park.

Mandark went motionless. "Yh..." The rest of his sentence stuck in his throat. "Yeh wha'?" he finally forced out.

"Don't mean what I said. Back there. I won't say it again."

Mandark looked at Dexter. The boy was gazing determinedly across the park. He looked back at his own feet, a pondering look on his face. "Really?"

"I said I would not say it again," Dexter whispered, accent growing thicker.

Mandark closed his eyes. "No need for you to," he whispered back. He felt Dexter's hand tighten on his own. He finally smiled. "Thanks."

Dexter didn't answer.

"Dex?" Mandark's smile slipped a little. When Dexter still didn't answer, he looked up to find Dexter looking at him with a sneer. "D- Dex?" Mandark asked, voice wobbling.

"You believed all that," Dex said disparagingly, sneer growing wider. He gave a small laugh to himself, yet his hand tightened again on Mandark's.

Mandark's eyes widened. "Wh- what?" he asked.

"Don't you get it? Tricked ya," Dexter said, smiling. "You're not mad, are you?" he asked in a mocking tone.

Mandark's mouth opened, then closed. He yanked his hand back. "Really, now," he said coldly. Dexter only laughed again. "I'm leaving," Mandark snapped.

"Fine, go. Run."

Mandark's fist tightened on thin air. "Get away from me." He stood up and began to walk along the edge of the lake.


	4. Chapter 4

Mandark continued walking, only reaching the other side of the lake as the sun began to set. It was only when he got to the big oak tree and sat down that the tears began to fall. He pulled his glasses off angrily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He felt something in his pocket, and he reached in, only to find a small purple glove. Snarling, he balled it up and was about to throw it when someone plucked it out of his hand.

"I'll take that." The voice reverberated around the rapidly darkening area.

"What... Who's there?" Mandark said loudly, leaping up. He looked around, but didn't see anyone.

"Over here, genius." Mandark couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, but it sounded as if it had guitar strings for vocal cords. Not rough, in particular, but not human.

"Who are you?!" Mandark called, rubbing his eyes to clear away the rest of the tears.

"Right _here_," whispered the voice. Mandark yelled, jumping a foot in the air and whirling around. He saw two glowing red eyes, then a shadowy figure stepped out.

"Who are you!" Mandark yelled again, instinctively stepping backward.

"Why, Mandark, don't you recognize me?" The shadow chuckled, shoulders shaking. The shadow reached up in a familiar gesture to adjust a pair of thick, black-framed glasses.

"D- Dexter?" Mandark breathed. "What...-?"

The shadow smirked. "Wrong answer." He stepped out into the dying light, throwing his features into sharp relief. A sickly green hand tugged a purple glove onto a small hand, where the glove immediately changed to match the color of his dark green hair. He snapped the glove on briskly.

"Wh-?" Mandark's speech skills seemed to have abandoned him. "Who are you!?" was all he could repeat.

The shadow chuckled. "Your... not first, I suppose, but second-worst enemy."

"Not first?" Mandark echoed.

"Nope. Seems your first is that little waste of flesh and technology that you've declared your love to." The shadow's voice began mocking, changing smoothly to a contemptuous tone when he reached the bit about Dexter, face twisting.

Mandark gaped. "What? He is not-..." He trailed off, remembering their earlier encounter.

"Are you suuurrrreeee?" the shadow asked, beginning to walk smoothly towards him, drawing the last syllable out.

"Of- of course!" Mandark stuttered, stepping backward even more. "Get out of here!"

The shadow chuckled. "Mandark, really. Aren't you upset with him?" The shadow's voice switched to something akin to concern.

"I... maybe," Mandark muttered. "What's it to you?"

The shadow paused, then slowly began to walk in a circle around him. "I need someone to do a favor for me. Someone intelligent, someone competent enough... with both the motivation... and resources. That excludes Dexter," he added smoothly, draping an arm over Mandark's shoulder, drawing a design on his shirt. "So I decided to try you. Decided you'd be more impressed by a dramatic entrance," he chuckled, more to himself.

Despite being taller, Mandark felt strangely intimidated by this strange figure. "Why do you look like Dexter?" he asked, eyes following the copy as he walked around.

"I'm his evil twin," the shadow said lightly.

Mandark rolled his eyes. "Sure. Now what is it you're wanting done?"

The shadow grinned, red eyes crinkling around the edges. "I want a book."

Mandark raised his eyebrows. "A book. That's it? What's in it for me?" he added suspiciously.

"Mandark, you've wanted little Dex to notice you for a while. I promise he'll look at you with... new eyes after this," the copy said, lowering his voice and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"You'll... do that for me?" Mandark looked up at the stars, his mind reeling.

"All that and more," the copy murmered enticingly. "Still mad at him?"

Mandark shifted his gaze to the red eyes. "Yeh... I... don't know. Sort of..."

The shadow leaned closer. Mandark stepped backward into the tree. "Mandark, he toyed with you. Played with your feelings. You have a right to be mad."

Mandark stared right into the glowing red eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

The shadow smiled cruelly. "You want Dexter's attention; you're mad at him. What do you want to do?"

Mandark frowned. "I... what do I want to do?" Mandark stared up at the leaves. "I..."

"Be honest." The shadow's voice was almost a croon.

"I..." Mandark sighed. "I want him to... to come to _me_. I want him to come... begging. No, not begging. But... pleading. Importuning. Asking for me." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

The shadow pressed even closer. "Mm." He closed his eyes. "And if I can guarantee you'll get that?" His eyes flashed open.

"I'd do anything," Mandark said quietly, before he could stop himself. He stared at the front of the shadow's bloodred coat instead.

The shadow's smile grew sadistic. "Excellent," he drawled. He reached out a hand. "Deal?"

Mandark looked at the hand, then at the green face. "I..." He hesitated. The shadow raised one eyebrow.

"Think of the possibilities," it said, smiling deviously.

Mandark looked back at those glowing eyes. He closed his own eyes, then snapped them open. "Deal."


	5. Chapter 5

Dexter sighed, waiting impatiently for the line to pick up. It finally did, a girl answering in a deadpan voice. "Hello."

"Hi. My name is Dexter. I believe you called here?"

"Yes. I did. It's Mandy. What is this about working for the military?" There was barely any intonation at all.

"Yes, I'm working as a temporary weapons supplier for the military," Dexter said suspiciously.

"Yes, I am aware of that. However, are your efforts- 'your' being the military- succeeding?"

"You really get right to the point, don't you," Dexter said smoothly.

"Indeed I do. I'm the appointed leader of the Earth Defense Force. I'm contacting you about your weapons production. You also work for me, genius."

Dexter sighed. "I'm also working for the military, thanks."

"I don't think so. The military isn't doing anything. Your own Professor told me to tell you."

Dexter's eyes widened. "He did?"

"Ask him yourself. The military isn't doing anything, and you said yourself that you were TEMPORARY. Be expecting a call from them revoking your partnership tomorrow, by the way."

Dexter groaned. "Yeah right. That's over half my funding."

"Which is why I want you at the front doors to your headquarters bright and early tomorrow at seven."

"What?! No way. I have school tomorrow too."

"School? Intellectually, you're the equivalent of a renowned professor with several doctorates to his name. Be there. I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up.

Dexter sighed. This wasn't the first time someone had contacted him about all that, but it WAS the first time Mandy herself had. He rubbed his eyes. _Seven._

The shadow crept quietly along the rooftop. _Pathetic defenses..._ he thought smugly. He grinned, coming to a window. Now that the deal was set, it was time for his plan to start. He dropped down soundlessly, landing on the pavement two stories below without a sound, rolling to absorb the impact. He pressed his lips together and continued.

Mandark was working on a small twisted bit of plastic and wires, hunched over with a screwdriver when the shadow leaped silently into the room. Grinning mischievously, he slipped over to the raven-haired boy. "How's it going?" he whispered in a low voice, right into his ear.

"EAAAAAAHHHHH!!" Mandark yelled, jumping straight up and scattering his project over the floor. "Wha- How the heck did you get in here!?" He jumped up and started gathering his broken project.

"Through the window," shrugged the shadow. "Not that hard. You're only a story or two off the ground." He smiled nastily. "Not too far to fall if you miss a step," he added malevolently.

Mandark glared at him. "No, not far at all. Of course not," he snapped sarcastically. He finished gathering the broken pieces and put them on his desk. "Why are you here?"

"I want my end of the deal done first."

Mandark snorted. "Good luck with that."

The copy's smirk faded. He snarled and leaped, pinning Mandark against the wall. "I don't think I'll need luck." Red eyes boring into gray-green, the shadow slowly pulled back, usual smirk sliding back into place. "All I need is a book. Small, black, looks like this." The shadow put a hand out, a small circular ring in his palm. A holographic image flickered up, displaying a tiny leather-bound book with strange gold lettering on the spine. "Not too much to ask, hm? In, grab the book, out."

Mandark slunk back against the wall, trying to blend in with the shadows when the shadow leaped. He narrowed his eyes, the shadow's cold breath ruffling the hair on his forehead. He sighed, rubbing his shoulders, which had gotten slammed into the wall. "Not much. Whose book is this?"

"Mine," the shadow replied. "It's mine."

"And you need me to steal it from..."

"An old acquaintance of mine," the shadow said curtly. "Are you going to do it or not? I've got better things to do than sit around here waiting for you to make up your mind." The shadow turned towards the wall, tilting his head, glaring at Mandark out of the corner of his eye.

"I... yeah, sure. As... no one gets hurt, right?" Mandark sighed.

"'Course not," the shadow said, shrugging nonchalantly.

Mandark groaned, rubbing his eyes with his forearm. "Fine. Fine, I'll do it. I-"

"Excellent," the shadow said briskly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Come on." The shadow seized the front of his shirt and yanked him over to the window.

"Hey, wait! What are you doing?!" Mandark yelped, being dragged along.

"You said you'd help. No turning back." The shadow pulled Mandark onto his back, smiling coldly. "No backing out now," he said unpleasantly, leaping out the window.

Mandark screamed as the fell through the air. He instinctively clutched the shadow's shoulders, almost screaming even more when the strange-feeling skin gave way where there should be bones, fingers sinking into the dented, pockmarked green skin. They hit the ground, the shadow's elbow catching him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. The shadow's shoulders were sagging from the rough treatment, and the shadow snarled, shrugging his shoulders back in place with a weird popping noise. "You scream too loud," he hissed.

"Ah-" Mandark began to speak, then immediately began coughing. When he caught his breath, he gasped and sat up. "YOU JUST THREW ME OUT A WINDOW!!" he shouted. "What do you expect, you insolent green freak?!"

The shadow hissed, grabbing Mandark's shoulders. "Do not _yell_ at me. You want Dexter's attention or not?" he snarled, shoving Mandark against the ground.

Mandark coughed again. "Get off me!" He shoved futilely at the copy's arms.

The copy sneered. "I don't think so."

Mandark pulled his lips back. "You-" he started loudly.

The copy grinned suddenly, lashing a hand out and grabbing Mandark's left wrist. He twisted, breaking the bones with a loud snapping noise. Mandark's scream caught in his throat, and the shadow actually laughed. "Be glad it wasn't your right hand I broke. Or your neck," the shadow whispered in his ear cruelly. "Now." He pulled back, helping Mandark up quickly. He tore a bit off his coat, wrapping it firmly around Mandark's now-useless wrist. The torn piece replenished itself almost immediately. "You keep your end of the deal, I'll keep mine," he said lightly, leading him along the street.

Mandark felt as if he should pull back again, yell at this strange creature. Yet he didn't. Almost in a daze, he allowed himself to be led along the street.

"Here we go..." the shadow mused, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a glowing red ring. He unfolded several strips of metal from it, then pressed a thin finger to the center. He grabbed Mandark, and suddenly they were whisked off into the night, reappearing at the edge of a dark building. "Tadaa," the shadow said softly. "Love that invention. One of the rare good things my twin's done."

Mandark sucked in the clear air, the previous trip having cleared his mind. "This is it?"

"Affirmative," the shadow said, sounding so much like Dexter that if those glowing red eyes weren't there, Mandark would have believed it was his long-time rival standing there.

"Well... okay..."

The shadow suddenly leaped forward, hanging onto the ceiling, placing a tiny piece of paper quickly over the lens of a security camera. "Go. Key's 19452672. Tap it in there." He nodded to a keypad on the side of the building. Mandark sighed tiredly.

"What was it again?" he asked, placing his good hand on the keypad.

"19452672," the copy said. Mandark quickly poked the numbers in, then slipped in through the glass doors.

The shadow leaped down, then tapped on the glass. He tapped his wrist, then held up 10 fingers. _Ten minutes._

Mandark nodded and dashed off.


	6. Chapter 6

ough the darkened halls, Mandark peered into room after room. After coming across an elevator, he dashed into it. _Eleventh floor,_ he thought. _Okay..._ He stuck his tongue out, pulling a tiny screwdriver out of his pocket. He unscrewed the button pane, having a little difficulty only being able to use one hand, then connected a couple signal wires, checked for any traps, then pinched two more wires together, putting the screwdriver in his mouth. The button for the eleventh floor lit up, and he poked it gingerly with the screwdriver. As soon as he did, the elevator whisked downward. A lighted panel announced that they were passing the fifth floor, then the sixth, and so on. Mandark waited with bated breath until the doors opened. Being sure to reach in and disconnect the wires to close the doors so he didn't get locked in, he dashed out. _What room was it again...? 351. No, 352. Crap! I'll check both of them._ Checking for security cameras, he looked around quickly and, seeing nothing to aid him, tore a button off his shirt. He took a rubber band from his wrist, wincing as pain twanged through it. He carefully twisted his fingers around it, then used his mouth to tie the button to the rubber band. He then pulled his thumb back and, squinting, aimed at the security camera down the hall. He pulled the rubber band a little tighter, then released it. The button hit the joint of the camera with a click, causing it to shift slightly. Mandark cursed silently. Crossing his fingers, he pressed himself agains the wall, inching past below the camera. When nothing happened, he ran down the hall. _349, 350, 351..._ He tried the door, only to find it locked. He sighed aggravatedly. There was no keyhole, so he couldn't open it. He ran to the next door, grabbing the handle and yanking. The door came open cleanly. He darted in, only to find a circular console surrounding a pillar of light. As his eyes adjusted, he found that the pillar of light was actually a glass cylinder, with a minuscule dot of light suspended in it. From what he could tell, the dot was actually too small to be seen with human eyes, but the light it emitted was enough to make it visible, for the most part. He inched closer to it curiously. He hesitated, then tapped a glowing orange power button. There was suddenly a revving noise, and bright lights exploded into existence. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to readjust. When they did, he walked over to the console. _Password?_ it prompted. He rolled his eyes. _Not what I'm here for,_ he thought to himself. He stepped forward to inspect the dot of light again when his injured hand hit something. Hissing in pain, he leaped backward, then his something caught his eye.

A little, leather-bound black book with strange gold lettering. Perfect. He grabbed the book and ran off.

Holding up ten fingers, the shadow smiled, baring pointed teeth as the raven-haired boy ran off. He turned and leaped up, removing the piece of paper from the camera in one swift movement. Being sure not to allow himself into the view of the lens, he sank sharp nails into the ceiling. Bracing his feet against the wall, he shot off, propelling himself a good ten or fifteen feet before reaching a line of bushes and trees. He groaned and pulled himself up, having done a rather ungraceful landing. He settled back and waited, staring up at the stars.

He was just imagining a green haze settling over the sky when a flash of white seared his vision. _That idiot!!! What did he-_ Realization flooded the shadow. _He turned the damn shield off. That blasted-!_ Doubling over, he hissed, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, red laced with green. His eyes narrowed. _Blood. Joy._ He hissed as another wave of pain racked him. Pressing his lips together, he forced himself to stand. He tapped a button on a tiny remote-like panel beneath his coat, calling up one of his minions. He pointed at the keypad. The tiny green creature nodded, creeping over to the keypad. Suddenly, it let out a high-pitched keening noise.

An alarm shattered the air, loud, cold, and piercing. The shadow almost screamed, pain feeling as if it was ripping his very molecules apart. Nearly blind, he stumbled away, coughing up green blood. He pulled his little red ring out of his pocket, fumbling with the strips of metal. He slammed a hand down on the center, whisking himself away and into the night.

A cold alarm pierced the air suddenly. Mandark yelled in surprise, halfway down the hallway. He dashed to the elevator, frantically pulling at wires before he realized he may want to take the stairs. He dashed out again, shoving his way past the closing doors. Bright lights filled the hallway, temporarily blinding him as he dashed past the security camera, paying to mind to if it saw him or not. He sprinted to a door, slipping and almost losing his balance on the polished white floor. He pressed himself desperately against it, sighing with relief when it gave way. His mind imagined footsteps behind him, he began to run down the stairs three at a time before he realized he should be going upward instead. He skidded to a halt, dashing off the opposite way. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, searching for anything that might help him. Puzzled, he drew out a small, metal green triangle. Frowning at it, he pressed it between his fingers. Suddenly, he was yanked upward and straight through a shattered window.

"Getting into trouble now, are we?" a guitar-string voice asked roughly, tossing the boy into the air.

Mandark yelled, clutching the book even tighter. "What are you doing?!" he shouted.

"Getting you out of here." The voice was tense with something that sounded akin to pain. Slim arms wrapped themselves around the boy's waist a mere four feet off the ground, pulling him into the air. Mandark yelped in surprise, twisting around to see how they were staying aloft. He saw six long, green, spindly mechanical legs that appeared to have been fashioned rather hastily out of pieces of metal extending from the shadow's back. Green goo oozed out of the joints. He winced and went back to staring at the ground. The shadow groaned, pushing Mandark into a tree once they were far enough from the alarms and building. The shadow dropped to the ground with a moan.

Mandark hissed as he was deposited in the tree. He climbed down clumsily, falling the last couple feet. He yelped as he landed on his bad hand, and quickly rolled over. He stood up, stretching. Upon catching sight of the shadow lying on the ground, he approached slowly. "I got the book..." he mumbled.

The shadow coughed, pulling himself into a sitting position and from there up onto his feet. "Yeah, you got the book, you brainless huuman." Russian accent thick on his tongue, he turned his red eyes towards the boy, murderous. "You stinking little pale emotion-filled IDIOT!!" he screamed. "You nearly ruined-" he took a breath- "EVERRYTHING I'VE WORKED FOR!!!" He jabbed a finger in Mandark's direction, the six spider legs drawing themselves up painfully behind him.

Mandark drew back quickly. He grabbed the book, which had fallen on the ground. "Look, I got the book..." he said softly.

The shadow turned. If looks could kill, Mandark would have been dead instantly. "I know you got it. Oh, I RREALLY know you got it." He turned the rest of his body to face him. "You know what else you nearly did? DO YOU?" His voice rose, Russian accent mangling the words until they were almost unintelligible. The spider legs snapped out from behind him, raising him up off the ground with a not-so-good-sounding creak and whine of gears. Mandark scrambled backward, falling to the ground. "You... nearly... got... me... _killed_!!!!" the shadow screamed. "You absolute foul, loathsome, sour little cockroach. I should kill you right NOW!!" The shadow pulled one green-tinted mechanical leg up to jab Mandark's cheek. The raven-haired boy whimpered, feeling the razor-sharp tip stab through the delicate tissue, feeling the tip of sharp point press against his teeth. "I should, shouldn't I!" Another metal leg came up and snatched the book. "Be so much _easier_, the shadow hissed, withdrawing the metal leg. "What have you to say for yourself, worthless human?" The shadow pulled lips back to reveal pointed teeth.

"I... I helped you get the book! You promised that Dexter-!...?" Mandark stammered. "I... I don't even know how! I didn't set the alarm off!"

"I KNOW YOU DIDN'T!" the shadow screeched. "Worthless! _I_ set off the damn alarm, you freaking IDIOT!!"

Mandark goggled at him. "Why... are you mad at me then...?"

The shadow stopped dead. "Why... I'll tell you, but I'll have to kill you afterward." Mandark could tell just by his tone of voice that he wasn't joking. "Because-"

"WAIT!!" Mandark shrieked. "No! Don't-!" He scrambled up. "I'll live with not knowing! It's fine!"

The shadow sneered, a maniacal glint in his eyes. "You asked though, didn't you?" he snarled. "Because of that DAMN ANTIMATTER!!" he screamed even louder, voice cracking as its pitch shot up about an octave.

Mandark winced, covering his ears and running backward, tripping over a tree root. The shadow yelled out, lowering himself to the ground. Four legs lashed out, snapping the tree and flinging its thin trunk to the side as the shadow took a few steps forward. "I'm not done," he hissed as he advanced.

Mandark squeaked, leaping backward as a splinter of wood flew past his face, narrowly missing his eye and nicking his ear. He winced at the pain in his cheek, turning around and running. He could hear the copy tearing up the small forest behind him. He kept running, not looking back.

"_Stop._" A rough guitar-string voice iterated the single word right behind him. Mandark shouted in surprise, whirling around and yelling as two mechanical arms pinned him to a tree by his shirt.

"You shouldn't be _alive_," the shadow hissed. "You should be _dead_. You foul little worthless emotion-filled _huuman_." Another green spider leg embedded itself less than an inch away from Mandark's ear. He whimpered, grasping the metal appendages pinning him to the tree, hissing and pulling his hand back as the blade sliced cleanly through the tender skin. He gasped. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, panting.

"Because, little worm, I told you exactly what would happen if I told you what almost killed me. If I told you my weakness." The shadow grimaced, face twisting in pain. "And I did."

Mandark closed his eyes. "I told you not to."

"But I did. And now... I have to keep my promise," he whispered. The spider leg embedded in the tree next to Mandark's head pulled back with a grating noise, then drew itself across the new wound on his cheek. Mandark pressed his lips together, trying to keep from crying out.

"Oh, come on. That hurts, doesn't it?" the shadow whispered. "Don't stay silent this _whole_ time." The tip pressed itself harder into the wound. Again, Mandark gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Scream for me... and maybe I won't hurt you _that_ bad," whispered the shadow. Mandark squeezed his eyes shut tight. The shadow laughed, sounding half-crazed. "_Scream_." A spider leg shot out and pierced straight through Mandark's left hand. The boy's lips parted, unable to hold the piercing noise inside before he blacked out.


	7. Chapter 7

me to, he was lying on taut purple sheets. Blearily opening his eyes, he squinted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Unable to do so, he put a hand out to search for his glasses, wincing at the pain that shot through his shoulder, wrist and hand. He gingerly reached the other hand out, fingertips brushing the black lenses and slipping them on his face. He peered around, discovering that he was sitting in his own bed.

All the memories from the night before came rushing back. Mandark grimaced, then leaned over, feeling as if he was going to throw up. However, he hadn't eaten at all the day before, so he merely coughed roughly for a few minutes. Wiping his mouth with the corner of the bedsheets, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. He paused, waiting as a dizzy spell came and went as quickly as it had arrived. He walked stiffly over to a mirror settled on his desk, picking it up and peering into it.

He looked like a mess. Dirt was smeared on his cheek, a bloody streak runing down it. His hair unruly, dark circles around his eyes. He groaned. "Headache," he mumbled out loud, wincing as it pulled at the delicate skin that hadn't yet healed. Settling the mirror back down, walking over to his desk and rubbing his eyes with his good hand, he winced at the other assorted bruises and injuries.

Speaking of which... He raised his left hand and stared at it. Bandaged in perfectly white, clean cloth, it actually didn't hurt, despite the injury he'd recieved. There was also a brace on his wrist. He looked closely at it, but there was nothing on the smooth dark blue surface apart from a few rows of Velcro adhesive. He sighed, realizing the sun was already up. _No use in going to school then, I guess..._ He groaned again and sat down on the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I am really lucky I'm alive right now," he murmured to himself. "Maybe this wasn't the best idea."

Earlier that day.

Dexter sighed, walking up to the front of his lab. He pulled out a slim, oval-shaped silver tablet, about three inches wide and not even an inch thick. He tapped the front of it, and the time popped up on a little screen. 7:34, read the time. He sighed. He'd never known Mandy to be late, even though last night was the first real contact they'd had. Before then, others had always relayed messages or they had traded emails or the such. He sighed again and, swiping the oval tablet against a keycard checkpoint, slipped inside.

"Hey, Dex." Someone waved to him across the broad expanse of golden-tan tiled floor.

"Hi, Gwen." Dexter rubbed his eyes.

"Well, you're up bright an' early," Gwen said, quite chipper.

"Eh. Actually, I didn't get any more than about two hours of sleep last night," he mumbled. "Busy night."

"Sounds like it. Come on, tiger, I got something you need to see. Although if you want to get some sleep first..." Gwen waved her hand. "It can wait."

Dexter shook his head. "Nah, I'm going to be up anyway. Have you seen Mandy? She told me to meet her here at 7."

Gwen shook her head, walking with Dexter over to the elevator. "Nope. She said she was taking today off."

Dexter frowned. "Did she? Maybe she meant tomorrow..." he mused. As the doors opened, Dexter's brow knitted together. "I know about the break-in already," he said quietly, bending down and picking the button panel up, fitting it back into its place.

"You do?" Gwen raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Come on..." Dexter swiped his little silver oval against another checkpoint. "Need to put manual keys on these... radio frequency ID chips are too easy to duplicate," he muttered to himself. "That's kind of what I was up all night about," he added to Gwen. She shrugged.

"Bet there's something else you haven't seen yet. From what I hear, Mr. Green pushed you off the scene pretty fast last night."

"That he did," Dexter chuckled. "I'm almost grateful. I needed some sleep. But don't tell him that." Dexter yawned again, not mentioning that he hadn't gone straight to sleep after Mr. Green had ordered him to, declaring that he and the Professor could handle whatever it was that couldn't wait until morning. Dexter tapped the button for the eleventh floor at Gwen's instruction, and settled back against the railing as the elevator dropped swiftly down.

"So what do you think happened?" Gwen questioned, raising here eyebrows again.

Dexter grimaced. "Looks like... Mandark," he muttered sourly. "That's what most signs point to."

Gwen nodded. "Makes sense."

"Does it?" Dexter mused, before realizing he said that out loud. He stared at the floor instead. Without warning, he stiffened, clutching the railing.

"Dexter?" Gwen glanced over at him. "Dex, you okay?"

Dexter took a deep breath in. "I... yeah, I'm fine," he replied flatly.

Gwen gave him a last look, then followed him out the doors. Dexter sighed, continuing along the hall. "I didn't get to see what happened down here though..." he grumbled under his breath. He continued along the rooms, until he came to room 352. He stared through the doorway, gaping. "How..."

Gwen followed him. "Dex? What are you- oh," she said softly, looking through the doorway. Dexter's face scrunched up, and he slipped inside. "How did he get _in_ here?" he asked disbelievingly.

"I don't know, Dex. I just help with security patrols, not the technical stuff," Gwen said gently, looking inside the room. Burnt papers were scattered everywhere, the console chipped and parts of it blown away in areas. In the center of the room, a shattered glass cylinder still stood. Dexter walked over to it, looking like a lost child.

"That... cost me... millions to procure. And... now it's gone," he whispered, sliding purple-gloved fingers over the broken glass.

"Dex... what was _in_ here, if you don't mind me asking?" Gwen inquired, stepping over the threshold and settling a hand on his shoulder.

"It... it was something that I was sure was going to help us. It was a couple micrograms of... something that you may not believe exists," Dexter said with a dry chuckle. "Can you keep a secret?"

Gwen smiled gently. "'Course I can." She held up a hand, twisting two fingers together. A pink swirl entwined itself around them. Dexter smiled up at her gratefully.

"It was a few micrograms of antimatter," he answered.

Gwen's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Antimatter. The opposite of matter. This here-" he tapped the glass "-had electromagnets on either end of it to ensure it didn't touch any matter, so that it stayed suspended in the space... but apparently not anymore. I was worried that they would fail to boot into manual settings if someone who didn't know what they were doing turned the standard shield off..." Dexter's smile was grim. "This antimatter had enough potential energy to power a city for days. It's what I've been running the shield on."

Gwen stared at the cylinder. "You're telling me that a few MICROgrams of this stuff did all this?" She splayed her fingers around the room.

"Yeah. In fact, the cylinder is made of diamond coated with a special durable type of polymethyl methacrylate... it should have absorbed most of the impact."

Gwen turned back to the shattered cylinder. "Wow." She was about to turn back to Dexter when the lights flickered off unexpectedly, plunging them into pitch-blackness. She heard a sharp intake of breath. "Dexter?" She heard a nervous edge to her voice.

"Yes, hold on..." Dexter rummaged around in his pockets, finally locating his oval tablet, pulling it out and tapping one slim gloved finger on the screen. A ghostly blue glow lit his face. "Gwen?"

"Yeah," she breathed, slipping a bit closer to the boy. She twisted her own fingers, a pale pink glow lighting her face.

"Follow me," he said softly, and holding the tablet out in front of him, began to walk towards the door.

"Dex, be careful," Gwen urged, but followed him nonetheless.

"Don't worry, it was probably some sort of power failure... I expect we may be having those a fair bit since the antimatter is no longer there," he said, voice echoing as they passed the main part of the lab. He walked over to a panel, tugging at the cover, surprised to find it already unlocked. "Must've been working on it earlier," he said to himself, placing four fingers on the screen and twisting. A menu came up, and he scrolled through them, finally tapping an icon. A small, brilliant light exploded out of the end, revealing the open panel. Dexter gasped, nearly dropping the tablet. He stepped backward into Gwen.

"Dexter, what is it?" she asked, holding her own light up as the tablet faded away. The pink light revealed the panel cover slashed roughly, metal twisted and bent. Underneath, the wiring and switches were mangled, several hanging off the wall, poking out beneath the panel. "Oh," she said softly.

"Gwen," Dexter breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Let's... get out of here," he whispered.

"I agree," Gwen replied, equally as quiet. "Come on." She gently began to pull Dexter towards the exit.

"Gwen, I-" Dexter choked his words off, clutching Gwen tightly.

"Dex?" Gwen's voice was worried.

Dexter made a strained noise. Suddenly, he sucked in a breath, stiffening, then his whole body went limp.

Gwen's eyes scanned the room. "Oh no... no no no," she whispered. "Not now. How could he have gotten in-?!" She turned back to Dex, who was lying on the floor. "Dexter. Dex! Come on, please wake up... please...?"

"Good luck with that." A guitar-string voice resonated loudly through the domed lab. Gwen sucked her breath in.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped coldly.

"Gwen, my dear. So nasty to your guest?" The voice reverberated in her ears, making her want to clap her palms over them. However, she dared not let go of Dexter, so she wrinkled her face instead.

"You aren't a guest," she spat. "You're an enemy. Invader. Foul, evil, green-skinned alien."

He chuckled. "I take that as a compliment," he said, voice as smooth as oil. A dim light filtered through the panes of the dome- artifical light, Gwen knew, since they were really quite a ways underground. What caught her eye was the shadowy figure standing resolutely in the middle of the room.

She hissed, bringing her hands up, glowing pink. "You foul little pile of puke."

He shrugged. "'Least I'm not a pale little fleshy, bony huuman." He smirked.

Gwen snarled, leaping into the air, pink sheets expanding to encompass Dexter as she jumped on top of another one. She drew her lips back in an unfriendly grimace.

The shadow merely smirked even more. He swept his arms dramatically out to his sides as six tainted green, sharp-looking mechanical spider legs splayed themselves out behind him. His grin widened as Gwen's eyes did the same. "Want to dance?" he said mockingly, quietly.

Gwen clenched her fists. "With you? No. But under the _circumstances_-" she leaped higher up, then aimed herself downward like a torpedo, a pink arrowhead forming around her hands "-I'll take my _CHANCES!_"

The shadow pulled four legs up, two to stop Gwen, the other two to seize her wrists. He pulled her close, then smiled nastily and flung her across the room. He grimaced at the movement, mechanical legs being far from optimal performance, what with their hasty construction a day or two earlier and the rough treatment they'd been receiving. He frowned, advancing on Gwen at a steady yet constantly pained pace.

Meanwhile, Gwen had lost her breath at being hurled against the wall at such a fast pace. She coughed repeatedly, pushing herself up on her elbows.

"I don't need you, now, you know?" the shadow whispered in her ear ominously. He used three spider legs to pull her up, the other three to raise himself up on. "So unless you give me a reason to keep you alive, you're about as useless to me as that raven-haired idiot."

Gwen glared at him. "You're a right little piece of work, you know that," she said, spitting in his face.

The shadow growled at such childish behaviour. He used his real arms to wipe the spittle off his brow. "Very mature," he said sarcastically, clasping his hands behing his back. He tilted his head to one side, examining Gwen out of the corner of his eye. "I don't see any use for you," he announced. "Let's see... ah. Perfecto," he said, lowering his voice and pressing his chin against his chest, causing shadows to arc across the green face in sharp angles. He pressed a finger against the back of Gwen's neck, sliding his thumb upward into a nerve. Gwen's eyes rolled back, collapsing against the wall. The copy stepped backward, still on the spider limbs. He sighed and settled himself down on his real legs, reaching out with the metal ones to grab Gwen. Hauling her up, he settled her into his real arms, using the metal ones to support them both, paying no mind to if the sharp ends perforated either person's skin.

Upon reaching his destination, he tapped a red blinking button with one of the spider legs. A door opened with a pneumatic hiss, and the shadow stepped into the airlock. He closed the door behind them, shoving another door open roughly. He dumped Gwen unceremoniously onto the floor, then exited without another word, sealing the door behind him and tapping the controls on the console outside. He grinned cruelly as he dropped the numbers well below 32 degrees.

Upon returning to the main area, he walked up to the small figure lying prone on the ground. With a self-satisfied smile, he picked the small figure up, bracing both him and the redheaded boy with the spider legs. He took the boy to the middle of the room, where he set him down carefully and folded the spider legs behind him, whining loudly as they went.

The shadow leaned forward and poked the boy's cheek. He smiled as the skin depressed, then rebound. He smiled even more as he leaned forward. He pulled the boy's glove off, tossing it aside carelessly. He slipped a small red bracelet onto the boy's wrist, clicking it into place tightly. He leaned even closer to whisper in the boy's ear.

"Dexter, my dear. Come and play with me."

Dexter stirred slightly. "Whozair?" he mumbled incoherently.

The shadow's smile turned quite unpleasant. "An old acquaintance of yours."

Dexter mumbled something about Samhain before rolling over.

The shadow's smile faded. "Wake up already, you insignificant little huuman," he hissed, jabbing a spider leg into the boy's side, not hard enough to pierce the skin, but hard enough to make an impression. He didn't want to ruin his prize just... _yet_.

Dexter yelped when the thin metal leg was jabbed at him. Groaning, he sat up. "Gwen?"

The shadow couldn't help but let out a sharp bark of laughter at the frail voice. "Try again, lovey," he said evenly.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Y- what-?" Dexter's eyes slowly adjusted to the light, even though he couldn't see much thanks to a lack of glasses, which appeared to have fallen off.

"Guess who?" the shadow asked in a low tone. "Been a while, hasn't it?" The shadow slipped Dexter's glasses out of his pocket, holding them up in front of the boy's face.

Unseeing, Dexter didn't seem to notice the glasses until the shadow whapped him in the face with them. "Who- who are you?" Dexter asked, doing his best to keep the wobble out of his voice as he hesitantly took the glasses.

"What, you don't recognize me?" The copy feigned disappointment. "I would've thought you would _remember,_" he said nastily.

Fear surged through Dexter, making him shiver. "I'm hoping I'm wrong," he mumbled, slipping the glasses on his nose, only to reveal a twin green face inches from his own, red eyes glowing ominously.


	8. Chapter 8

Mandark sighed, laying down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, rather bored, to say the least. At least he didn't have the shadow popping in randomly- he'd like to keep the current skin he was in, thank you.

Speaking of that shadow, who _was_ he? Or even better, _what_ was he? Mandark groaned, rolling over and grabbing a slim black laptop buried under his mattress. He winced at the pain in his hand, then wondered why everything didn't hurt any more than it did. He shrugged, assuming that whoever had bandaged him up had also given him some sort of painkiller. Although that also made him feel rather worried about who might have done it (and maybe what else they might have done). Flicking it on, he quickly typed in cloning processes. Even though technically speaking, clones took a while to grow, it was plausible that maybe someone had cloned Dexter without him realizing it, though the process went bad, hence the green skin and all. Although he'd never seen eyes that gave _off_ photons instead of just taking them in, therefore the glowing eyes... maybe some sort of radioactive mutation, he reflected.

Then he remembered those grating, whining, green-tinted mechanical legs. There was barely any explanation for those, especially the way they appeared to be connected directly to the shadow's back. Although Mandark could understand the back, so the shadow could direct the legs through thought processes through the spinal cord.

But the shadow didn't have bones, therefore no spine. Mandark thunked his head against his headboard, remembering the way its shoulders had given way so easily. _Does this thing even have a nervous system?_ he wondered. No, of course it had to. Silly to think it didn't. How could it move, then? It wasn't a puppet.

Then what was it? He glanced at the computer, scrolling through the search listings. Rolling his eyes at the results, he quickly opened up a script window and wrote a hasty spider program, including a bit of boolean code so the search would be more specific. He smiled in spite of himself as the spider began to run, using search engine after search engine, scanning through databases, all at the same time. That was why it was called a spider, because it virtually extended multiple legs that could all search for the same thing simultaneously. He stopped it, typed in an extra code to get it to stop after five minutes, then went to get something to eat.

When he came back, the little laptop was beeping plaintively. He took a bite of the muffin he'd gotten, then sat back down and reviewed the results.

Link after link, page after page, after about an hour of trawling through information, he was still just as stuck. The shadow didn't fit ANY of the requirements to be a clone- no bones, weird colors, cold breath, almost rubbery skin... nothing fit. He sighed, leaning back and racking his brain for what it could be, then something caught his eye. A tiny splotch of bloodred, appearing to be almost like a piece of fabric, apart from the fact that it appeared to be melting. He frowned, crawling off the bed to get a closer look at it. After he was satisfied, he jumped up, grabbed a pair of gloves, picked it up and hurried to his lab.

Settling the red melting fabric on a steel table, he pulled a light arm over so he could see better. Making sure the gloves weren't torn or ripped anywhere, he grabbed a scalpel and carefully split the fabric into three sections. Setting that down, he reached over and pulled a magnifying glass over, posing the flexible arm above his workspace. He peered through the circular glass, setting to work with a pair of tweezers, pulling the pieces apart. He held the tweezers up, noting that the melted bits seemed to be rather thick, much like gelatin. He experimentally poked the melted bit with a metal prong, raising his eyebrows as he felt the seemingly gelatinous liquid push against the tip. He set the melted bit down as it began to drip onto the table, then poked it slowly. The prong slid smoothly into the liquid, then he went to pull the prong out quickly, and the liquid-like stuff hardened, chipping away as he pulled at it, then melting again and dripping off the prong. _It's like... corn starch and water,_ he realized. He pressed a gloved finger quickly on another melting bit. It pushed right up against it, then he relieved the pressure, allowing his finger to rest on it gently instead. His finger sank past the surface. He shook his head, pulling his hand back and letting the red drip back onto the table.

He pulled the gloves off briskly and walked over to a black console. He tapped a button, then settled four fingers on a screen that automatically lit up with a whitish-red glow. He poked the screen, then swiped three fingers diagonally across it. Frowning, he tapped a tiny red icon, willing it to turn green. _Great. Why is that offline...?_ He sighed, tapping another icon. _Dexter's labs are never offline..._ He opened another menu, scrolling through some options, tapping past the icons against a black background. He finally selected the one he wanted, then sat down at a keyboard and rapidly typed in his instructions. "Scan, analyze... check for properties, possible chemical compounds and/or other components..." he muttered to himself, glancing over at the red drippy material. He sat back, looking at the code, then slammed his hand down on the enter key.

Half an hour later, he had a netbook tucked into a small backpack and he was speedwalking along the sidewalk to the school. Upon arriving, he took about as much notice of the kids out on the recess area as they took of him (which was nonexistant at best). Settling himself down on the steps, he flipped open the tiny netbook, scanning through the information on the screen. He opened up a program called Kismet, a packet-sniffer that he'd modified. Firing it up, he clicked the "Start Scan" button and reviewed the results. He glanced at a still-dormant red dot in the corner, noting that Dexter's labs were still offline. He shot a hand out, grabbing some poor kid by the collar.

"Is Dexter here today?" he asked, not looking up from the netbook.

"No, he's sick," the kid grumbled, pushing Mandark off of him.

Mandark frowned. Sick? He let go of the kid, ignoring the yelp as the kid stumbled and hit the ground. Mandark swept a finger across his trackpad, pulling up a VoIP software and clicking in Dexter's phone number. Waiting impatiently, he shooed the kid away. Someone picked the line up, answering with a chipper "Hello?!"

Mandark thumped his head against the side railing. "Hello."

"Oh, hi, Mandark," said the light voice. Mandark heard giggling, then a cough.

"Is Dexter there?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, no, he hasn't been home since this morning. Said he was heading off to school," DeeDee said, coughing again. "I think I'm sick," she added.

Mandark nearly rolled his eyes. "Okay, thanks," he said, then promptly hung up. _Just had to choose HER to cover for all this..._ Curiosity piqued, he folded the netbook up and walked off.

Standing at the foot of the vast blue chrome-like building, he stared up at it, looking at the stylized "d" with the twist inside. He sighed and leaned forward, pushing the door open and walking into the wide atrium. He stared at the gold-embossed tiles, the few desks, the high ceiling with its extravagant chandelier. He raised his eyebrows; he'd never been in here before. Footsteps echoing along the broad walls, he started across the room. Reaching a hallway parallel to the room, he glanced along both sides of it, before choosing the left side. Walking down along it, he noted that the lights were off even in the hallway. Reaching a door at the end, he pushed it, making a small noise of surprise as it opened. Stepping out into the brisk sunlight, he stared around until his eyes adjusted. Brow furrowing as he recognized the place, he took a hesitant step forward. He began to run, dropping the netbook as he hurried over to a tree. Running his good hand over it, he rubbed the small bandage on his cheek anxiously with his other hand. His good hand passed over three marks, as if someone had taken a knife and stabbed the tree. Bending down a slight more, he found another mark, this one spattered with blood.

His blood.

He turned and ran deeper into the small forest. He followed a path, coming to a small clearing. He stared around, looking at the snapped tree trunk, then at the scuffs and small gouged marks where the shadow's spider legs had dug into the ground the night before. He shook his head, too stunned for words. Then, realization hit him. _That was Dexter's book I stole._

Mandark twisted around, scanning the area. Finding nothing, he pelted back to the first tree. He closed his eyes. "Oh, Dex, I'm sorry..." He grabbed his netbook and charged back into the building, having to retry three times to get the numbers he'd keyed in the previous night correctly since his fingers kept shaking. He shoved past the doors, running hurriedly into the atrium. Looking around frantically, he found no one. He dashed to the elevator, jabbing the "down" button and yelling Dexter's name. When nothing happened, he snarled and ran off along the right side of the hallway. He skidded to a stairs door, only to find it locked. Cursing, he examined the lock. _DexLabs_, said a stylized imprint. He examined it closer, then found that it had a rotational combination input, not unlike some of the locks on school lockers. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a quarter. He shook his head, then ran around past the desks in the atrium. He found a door to a staff lounge, shoving it open and dashing inside. He ran up to a soft drink vending machine, jamming the quarter in and waiting impatiently.

_Deposit $0.75 more,_ the tinny LCD screen told him. He cursed again, racking his brains. He paused, then jabbed 4231, watching as a debug menu scrolled across the LCD screen. He poked through a bunch of seemingly senseless jargon. Reaching the Config settings, he poked C1. _PRICE,_ announced the screen. He grinned, narrowing his eyes. He then carefully skipped through the permissions password input (Password was 2468- so predictable...) to get to the main configuration menu. He jabbed C8, then 12. There was a hum, and the mechanical arm inside the door lifted up and retrieved an aluminum can. He smiled even wider as he reached in and grabbed it. He jabbed the coin return button, exiting the menu. He pulled the top off the can, casting it aside, then proceeded to dump the contents of the can out into the sink. He grabbed a pen and began working at it, finally wearing a hole in the side. He looked around, spotting an abandoned desk in the corner. He hurried over to it, rummaging around in the drawers until he found an Exacto-Knife. He cut a rectangle out of the can, then cut two curves out of it so it resembled a stunted Y. He nicked himself but otherwise accomplished the task of pulling the shape out and flattening it. Having done this, he ran back to the locked door and curled the edge of the thin metal around the curved part of the padlock, with the bottom of the Y pointing down. He gritted his teeth and shoved it downward, hissing at the pain in his bad hand, but continued until there was a slight popping noise and the lock fell open. He grabbed his netbook and dashed down the stairs.

He continued running until he got to the eleventh floor. Pushing the door open, he found all the lights off. He opened his netbook, walking cautiously along the hall until he got to a room he recognized- room 352. He stepped quietly inside, shining the pale blueish light presented by his netbook around the room. Surveying the damage, he closed his eyes against the sudden threat of tears. Opening his eyes again, he took another step. He frowned, something catching his eye, glinting slightly. He leaned over, realizing it was that little black book. He hesitated, looking around the dark room before quickly bending down and picking it up. He settled himself down, netbook on his knees, and opened it up.


	9. Chapter 9

Mandark sighed, laying down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, rather bored, to say the least. At least he didn't have the shadow popping in randomly- he'd like to keep the current skin he was in, thank you.

Speaking of that shadow, who _was_ he? Or even better, _what_ was he? Mandark groaned, rolling over and grabbing a slim black laptop buried under his mattress. He winced at the pain in his hand, then wondered why everything didn't hurt any more than it did. He shrugged, assuming that whoever had bandaged him up had also given him some sort of painkiller. Although that also made him feel rather worried about who might have done it (and maybe what else they might have done). Flicking it on, he quickly typed in cloning processes. Even though technically speaking, clones took a while to grow, it was plausible that maybe someone had cloned Dexter without him realizing it, though the process went bad, hence the green skin and all. Although he'd never seen eyes that gave _off_ photons instead of just taking them in, therefore the glowing eyes... maybe some sort of radioactive mutation, he reflected.

Then he remembered those grating, whining, green-tinted mechanical legs. There was barely any explanation for those, especially the way they appeared to be connected directly to the shadow's back. Although Mandark could understand the back, so the shadow could direct the legs through thought processes through the spinal cord.

But the shadow didn't have bones, therefore no spine. Mandark thunked his head against his headboard, remembering the way its shoulders had given way so easily. _Does this thing even have a nervous system?_ he wondered. No, of course it had to. Silly to think it didn't. How could it move, then? It wasn't a puppet.

Then what was it? He glanced at the computer, scrolling through the search listings. Rolling his eyes at the results, he quickly opened up a script window and wrote a hasty spider program, including a bit of boolean code so the search would be more specific. He smiled in spite of himself as the spider began to run, using search engine after search engine, scanning through databases, all at the same time. That was why it was called a spider, because it virtually extended multiple legs that could all search for the same thing simultaneously. He stopped it, typed in an extra code to get it to stop after five minutes, then went to get something to eat.

When he came back, the little laptop was beeping plaintively. He took a bite of the muffin he'd gotten, then sat back down and reviewed the results.

Link after link, page after page, after about an hour of trawling through information, he was still just as stuck. The shadow didn't fit ANY of the requirements to be a clone- no bones, weird colors, cold breath, almost rubbery skin... nothing fit. He sighed, leaning back and racking his brain for what it could be, then something caught his eye. A tiny splotch of bloodred, appearing to be almost like a piece of fabric, apart from the fact that it appeared to be melting. He frowned, crawling off the bed to get a closer look at it. After he was satisfied, he jumped up, grabbed a pair of gloves, picked it up and hurried to his lab.

Settling the red melting fabric on a steel table, he pulled a light arm over so he could see better. Making sure the gloves weren't torn or ripped anywhere, he grabbed a scalpel and carefully split the fabric into three sections. Setting that down, he reached over and pulled a magnifying glass over, posing the flexible arm above his workspace. He peered through the circular glass, setting to work with a pair of tweezers, pulling the pieces apart. He held the tweezers up, noting that the melted bits seemed to be rather thick, much like gelatin. He experimentally poked the melted bit with a metal prong, raising his eyebrows as he felt the seemingly gelatinous liquid push against the tip. He set the melted bit down as it began to drip onto the table, then poked it slowly. The prong slid smoothly into the liquid, then he went to pull the prong out quickly, and the liquid-like stuff hardened, chipping away as he pulled at it, then melting again and dripping off the prong. _It's like... corn starch and water,_ he realized. He pressed a gloved finger quickly on another melting bit. It pushed right up against it, then he relieved the pressure, allowing his finger to rest on it gently instead. His finger sank past the surface. He shook his head, pulling his hand back and letting the red drip back onto the table.

He pulled the gloves off briskly and walked over to a black console. He tapped a button, then settled four fingers on a screen that automatically lit up with a whitish-red glow. He poked the screen, then swiped three fingers diagonally across it. Frowning, he tapped a tiny red icon, willing it to turn green. _Great. Why is that offline...?_ He sighed, tapping another icon. _Dexter's labs are never offline..._ He opened another menu, scrolling through some options, tapping past the icons against a black background. He finally selected the one he wanted, then sat down at a keyboard and rapidly typed in his instructions. "Scan, analyze... check for properties, possible chemical compounds and/or other components..." he muttered to himself, glancing over at the red drippy material. He sat back, looking at the code, then slammed his hand down on the enter key.

Half an hour later, he had a netbook tucked into a small backpack and he was speedwalking along the sidewalk to the school. Upon arriving, he took about as much notice of the kids out on the recess area as they took of him (which was nonexistant at best). Settling himself down on the steps, he flipped open the tiny netbook, scanning through the information on the screen. He opened up a program called Kismet, a packet-sniffer that he'd modified. Firing it up, he clicked the "Start Scan" button and reviewed the results. He glanced at a still-dormant red dot in the corner, noting that Dexter's labs were still offline. He shot a hand out, grabbing some poor kid by the collar.

"Is Dexter here today?" he asked, not looking up from the netbook.

"No, he's sick," the kid grumbled, pushing Mandark off of him.

Mandark frowned. Sick? He let go of the kid, ignoring the yelp as the kid stumbled and hit the ground. Mandark swept a finger across his trackpad, pulling up a VoIP software and clicking in Dexter's phone number. Waiting impatiently, he shooed the kid away. Someone picked the line up, answering with a chipper "Hello?!"

Mandark thumped his head against the side railing. "Hello."

"Oh, hi, Mandark," said the light voice. Mandark heard giggling, then a cough.

"Is Dexter there?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, no, he hasn't been home since this morning. Said he was heading off to school," DeeDee said, coughing again. "I think I'm sick," she added.

Mandark nearly rolled his eyes. "Okay, thanks," he said, then promptly hung up. _Just had to choose HER to cover for all this..._ Curiosity piqued, he folded the netbook up and walked off.

Standing at the foot of the vast blue chrome-like building, he stared up at it, looking at the stylized "d" with the twist inside. He sighed and leaned forward, pushing the door open and walking into the wide atrium. He stared at the gold-embossed tiles, the few desks, the high ceiling with its extravagant chandelier. He raised his eyebrows; he'd never been in here before. Footsteps echoing along the broad walls, he started across the room. Reaching a hallway parallel to the room, he glanced along both sides of it, before choosing the left side. Walking down along it, he noted that the lights were off even in the hallway. Reaching a door at the end, he pushed it, making a small noise of surprise as it opened. Stepping out into the brisk sunlight, he stared around until his eyes adjusted. Brow furrowing as he recognized the place, he took a hesitant step forward. He began to run, dropping the netbook as he hurried over to a tree. Running his good hand over it, he rubbed the small bandage on his cheek anxiously with his other hand. His good hand passed over three marks, as if someone had taken a knife and stabbed the tree. Bending down a slight more, he found another mark, this one spattered with blood.

His blood.

He turned and ran deeper into the small forest. He followed a path, coming to a small clearing. He stared around, looking at the snapped tree trunk, then at the scuffs and small gouged marks where the shadow's spider legs had dug into the ground the night before. He shook his head, too stunned for words. Then, realization hit him. _That was Dexter's book I stole._

Mandark twisted around, scanning the area. Finding nothing, he pelted back to the first tree. He closed his eyes. "Oh, Dex, I'm sorry..." He grabbed his netbook and charged back into the building, having to retry three times to get the numbers he'd keyed in the previous night correctly since his fingers kept shaking. He shoved past the doors, running hurriedly into the atrium. Looking around frantically, he found no one. He dashed to the elevator, jabbing the "down" button and yelling Dexter's name. When nothing happened, he snarled and ran off along the right side of the hallway. He skidded to a stairs door, only to find it locked. Cursing, he examined the lock. _DexLabs_, said a stylized imprint. He examined it closer, then found that it had a rotational combination input, not unlike some of the locks on school lockers. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a quarter. He shook his head, then ran around past the desks in the atrium. He found a door to a staff lounge, shoving it open and dashing inside. He ran up to a soft drink vending machine, jamming the quarter in and waiting impatiently.

_Deposit $0.75 more,_ the tinny LCD screen told him. He cursed again, racking his brains. He paused, then jabbed 4231, watching as a debug menu scrolled across the LCD screen. He poked through a bunch of seemingly senseless jargon. Reaching the Config settings, he poked C1. _PRICE,_ announced the screen. He grinned, narrowing his eyes. He then carefully skipped through the permissions password input (Password was 2468- so predictable...) to get to the main configuration menu. He jabbed C8, then 12. There was a hum, and the mechanical arm inside the door lifted up and retrieved an aluminum can. He smiled even wider as he reached in and grabbed it. He jabbed the coin return button, exiting the menu. He pulled the top off the can, casting it aside, then proceeded to dump the contents of the can out into the sink. He grabbed a pen and began working at it, finally wearing a hole in the side. He looked around, spotting an abandoned desk in the corner. He hurried over to it, rummaging around in the drawers until he found an Exacto-Knife. He cut a rectangle out of the can, then cut two curves out of it so it resembled a stunted Y. He nicked himself but otherwise accomplished the task of pulling the shape out and flattening it. Having done this, he ran back to the locked door and curled the edge of the thin metal around the curved part of the padlock, with the bottom of the Y pointing down. He gritted his teeth and shoved it downward, hissing at the pain in his bad hand, but continued until there was a slight popping noise and the lock fell open. He grabbed his netbook and dashed down the stairs.

He continued running until he got to the eleventh floor. Pushing the door open, he found all the lights off. He opened his netbook, walking cautiously along the hall until he got to a room he recognized- room 352. He stepped quietly inside, shining the pale blueish light presented by his netbook around the room. Surveying the damage, he closed his eyes against the sudden threat of tears. Opening his eyes again, he took another step. He frowned, something catching his eye, glinting slightly. He leaned over, realizing it was that little black book. He hesitated, looking around the dark room before quickly bending down and picking it up. He settled himself down, netbook on his knees, and opened it up.


	10. Chapter 10

_August 25. The reports came in, and... They aren't very good. Ever since the last run-in with that twisted version of myself, things have been rather hectic. I've been feeling rather tired lately, which I suppose is to be expected after all this. I really do not see the need for a medical examination, however, which Mr. Green and the Professor enlightened me about yesterday. The medical specialist is supposed to come tomorrow morning, and until then I will probably work on a new program I'm hoping to have up and running by tomorrow afternoon._ The precise handwriting was smooth and slanted. Mandark turned to the next page, beginning to feel slightly guilty. This was apparently the equivalent of Dexter's diary, although he thought the boy would have typed it instead of written it in a little leather book. He sighed, wondering why the shadow would have wanted it, when his fingers brushed against a bunch of papers folded neatly and tied with a rubber band in the back of the book. Curious, he pulled them out, snapping the brittle band easily and unfolding them. His eyes widened. "Oh, no..." he whispered. This must have been what the shadow was looking for.

Detailed, handwritten pen, sketched and outlined every single aspect about Dexter's lab. He recognized the young boy's handwriting, scribbled notes on almost every single space of paper. He pulled the first page back, which detailed the atrium and main floor level, to reveal twenty-six other sheets of paper- one for every level of the lab, and two left over. He smacked himself, yelping in pain as his bad hand collided with his face. He looked over the papers desperately, until he found a stray one that, instead of outlining a whole floor, outlined only one room- the one he was in.

_Antimatter Shield Generation,_ read the top of the paper. Mandark's eyes widened. _Antimatter?_ He suddenly remembered seeing the tiny, microscopic speck of light in the center of this very room. He shuddered, then went on to read Dexter's notes.

_Throughout all of this, a main priority of mine has been to find a weakness in the copy's defenses,_ read the scribbled notes. _After many, many tries, I believe I may have found it... sitting right in front of my nose, and quite ironically, too. Thanks to a friend of mine who works at CERN along with various other companies and organizations of the like, I have managed to procure a few micrograms of antimatter. What with the now-hazardous effect of radiation on my immune system..._ Mandark frowned, but continued reading. _Regular matter gives off radiation- in fact, all things do, even humans. Although the copies give off a different kind... but that's for another time. I realized a short while ago it makes sense that antimatter would give off antiradiation... the opposite of radiation. If antimatter comes into contact with regular matter, they "delete" themselves, quite violently. Just the few micrograms I have there would be enough to obliterate half the floor, which is why I decided to ship in the polymethyl methacrylate-coated diamond cylinder to contain it, since that would easily absorb most of the impact were something to happen. Now... I wondered, what would happen if antiradiation came into contact with radiation? After a couple tests, I came to the conclusion that they do not obliterate each other instantaneously nor violently as much as absorb the energies of the other, much like adding a negative number plus its positive number- 5 microgram's worth of radiation plus 5 microgram's worth of antiradiation would equal zero radiation as total, replacing the previosly active energies in that area causing the radiation with a sense of complete, absolute equilibrium, in terms of radiation._ Mandark's eyes were about the size of saucers. _So this is what he's been working on...?_ Mandark thought in disbelief.

_Using the very magnets that kept the antimatter in suspension inside the cylinder, I used that to transport the energies of the antiradiation's effect to encompass most of the building, hence forming a foolproof shield against the copies. If they try to come near, their own radiation causes them to practically self-destruct, for lack of a better phrase. However, that effect is inversed with myself. Ever since that bout with lymphoma cancer, the natural immunity that humans have against the type of radiation emitted by the copies is gone for me. So, whenever a copy or concentration of the strange chemicals is around that is higher than 0.5 kilograms (which includes nano types of level 6 or higher efficiency status), my immune system, no longer being able to handle the radiation, begins to try and protect me from the radiation- although I have to admit, it doesn't really protect me from anything, seeing as I tend to lose consciousness. The first time this happened, I nearly had a seizure. Thankfully, nothing that dramatic has happened since, assuming I avoid them._

Mandark slammed the book shut, mind reeling. _That... that... wow,_ he thought. Then... _The shadow. This... this is all why he wanted the book!! And... I helped him._ Mandark sat there, shocked, then finally snapped into action. Yelling Dexter's name, he scrambled to his feet, the netbook cracking against the ground. Ignoring it, he tucked the book under his arm, skidding out the door, feet crunching on the broken glass.

"Dexter!!" Mandark yelled again, running back along the hallway. "Dexter!?" he shouted again, turning to the main part of the lab. He looked up at the dim light filtering through paned, curved windows that made up the ceiling. "Dexter... where are you...?" he whispered.

A cruel, low laugh shot through the air.

"You!" Mandark screamed, recognizing the shadow's guitar voice. "Where are you!?" he yelled.

"I'm right here, Mandark," the voice teased. Mandark whirled around, dropping the book.

"What've you done!!" he screamed, voice breaking.

"Nothing you didn't agree to," the voice said amusedly.

Mandark's eyes filled with tears. His hands fell to his sides, fingers balled into fists. "I- what? No. What did you do?! Where... where's Dexter!?" he shouted, turning back to the face the main room.

A harsh grating noise signified the shadow's arrival. Mandark narrowed his eyes, trying to see the silhouetted figure, but finding nothing.

The shadow suddeny leaped down from the ceiling, landing on all six legs with a cracking noise. "He's right _here,_" the shadow whispered, dropping a limp figure on the ground beneath him.

"Dexter," Mandark breathed. He turned his eyes back to the shadow. "You horrible, inhuman creature!! What did you do to him?!" Mandark screamed as he ran toward Dexter.

A cold, sharp metal arm hit him in the stomach, sending him flying backward.

"I got what I wanted," the shadow hissed. "I should thank you, you foul, stinking little huuman. Without that book... I never would've gotten in here. And then you asked me to make sure little Dex came to you? Well." His sneer was poisonous. "I had fun doing that."

Mandark gasped for breath. "Wha- whaddayamean?" he forced out, trying to stand.

The shadow was about to answer when Dexter coughed weakly. The shadow looked down at the boy under him, face going sour.

"M... Mandark," Dexter rasped. "S'that you?" He rolled over onto his back.

The copy grinned harshly. "Hear that, Mandark? He's asking for you."

Mandark's heart nearly broke. "You..."

The shadow lowered himself to his feet. "Don't make deals with demons, Mandark. We don't play nice." The shadow kicked Dexter, who made a pained noise, trying to push himself away from the shadow. He coughed, then rasped out, "Mandark?"

The shadow laughed- not a forced evil laugh, but a full-fledged peal of laughter. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing. When it died down, he turned to Mandark, raising himself on the spider legs again. "You wanted him to be pleading for you. You got your wish. Unfortunately, Dexter may not last long enough for you to enjoy it." He turned with another evil smile. "Nice doing business with you." He reached down with one spider leg, flicking Dexter's wrist. A small red ring fell from it. The shadow gritted his teeth, then leaned down and tapped the side of it as Dexter sucked in a breath, closing his eyes tightly, then finally giving up and falling into unconsciousness once again as his immune system worked against him.

The shadow pulled back a paper-thin sheet of metal on the bracelet, nearly screaming in pain as a bright blue-white color exploded out. A beeping noise sounded, and he took a step backward, using the spider legs to propel himself. "Good luck getting out of here alive," he spat, then jabbed his red transport ring and disappeared, leaving them behind.

Mandark exhaled, running over to Dexter and dropping to his knees. "Dex, Dex, please wake up..." he pleaded. "Dex, come on, I need you..."

Dexter coughed. "Hey."

Mandark sighed with relief. "Dexter."

"You came," he mumbled.

"Yeah, yes, I did, Dex. I... I'm so sorry..." Tears slipped down his face as he looked to the side.

"For what?"

"For... Dex, I... I was the one who stole the book, this is all my fault..." His voice broke, tears coming faster now.

Dexter shook his head weakly. "No one could've gotten in here," he rasped.

"What do you mean? I got in here three times, once to talk to you, twice to steal that book the shadow asked for, three times just now," Mandark mumbled.

"Need to improve the security," Dex said, voice fading. "Promise me something?"

Mandark shook his head at the security comment. "Dex... yeah. Yes. Anything."

"Don't stop loving me."


	11. Chapter 11

Mandark was silent. Then, "Dex..."

"You said you'd promise," Dexter said hoarsely, staring up at the pinkish-red face floating above him.

"I... I did. And I promise I won't. But... why?"

"Because... who else is going to?" he murmured, then fell silent, not wanting to waste energy on speaking.

"What do you mean, who else is going to?" Mandark asked. He slipped a hand under Dexter's shoulders, trying to pick him up, surprised to find the small boy so light. He pushed his other hand beneath Dexter's knees and with little strain, lifted the boy into the air. "Come on, we need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Dexter mumbled, pushing weakly against Mandark's chest. "Why hospital?"

Mandark paused, looking down at the limp form in his arms. "Do you... know where you are, Dex?"

"Nothin'," Dexter groaned. "Head hurts." He coughed again.

_Beep._

Mandark jumped, nearly dropping Dexter, who groaned in surprise. "Whazzat?" Dexter said disjointedly.

"I... don't know," Mandark whispered. He carefully set Dexter down, then looked around.

There. A little flash of red...

Mandark leaned down, looking closely and squinting through the dim light. He spotted the small red bracelet. Upon closer examination, he found that it was glowing softly with a blueish-white light. He picked it up, staring at it. _4.46_ it said on the side. The numbers changed a second later to _4.45_.

Mandark poked a cover aside. Blue-white light spilled out, emanating from a tiny, near-invisible speck. His eyes widening, he dropped it as the numbers clicked to _4.44_. Mandark was a genius; it didn't take much to recognize a timer... or the antimatter contained in the tiny compartment. _Explains why Dexter managed to stay conscious earlier..._ he thought sourly to himself, turning and scooping Dexter up again, ignoring the boy's protests. "Come on! We gotta get out of here!" he hissed, running awkwardly to the hallway.

Dexter protested weakly as Mandark ran clumsily to the hall. "Where ya going?" he mumbled.

"Dex! How do I get into the elevator??" Mandark asked desperately.

"Elevator... don't. Can't. Cords... broken," Dexter slurred.

Mandark swore, then turned and went to the stairs. The door was locked, the padlock melted. Another beeping noise. Mandark tensed. _How do we get out of here?!_ he thought sadly. He finally realized what the shadow had meant- good luck getting out alive. Without being obliterated by the antimatter sitting in front of him. Well, he didn't plan on giving up yet. "Dex, come on... wait here, okay? Don't do anything." He walked back over to the elevator doors and carefully set Dexter down, then ran back to the main area, willing his brain not to panick just yet. He looked around for something, anything, that might give him an idea. He spotted a small console on the wall, and ran over to it eagerly. His hand hovered over the keypad hesitantly, then began to flip through options. To his surprise, it seemed to be the controls to some sort of temperature-regulated airtight pod. He selected the "Cam" option, stunned to find a black-and-white image of someone curled tight in a fetal position in the middle of a room. A temperature status read well below 0F. He quickly went back to the main menu, disabled the temperature regulation, then pressed a button. A sealed door released with a hiss and a couple wisps of steam floating under it. Mandark shoved the door open, hurrying into the freezing pod.

He looked at the girl. "Wait a moment... Gwen??" he said, surprised. "Gwen. Gwen! Come on, you gotta get out of..." An idea flashed through his mind. _Temperature pod._ He shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. He grabbed Gwen, pulling her motionless form out of the pod, letting her thump onto the ground outside. He charged back to Dexter, mind whirling with possibilities. "Dexter!!!" he shouted.

The redhead jumped. "Nnnh-hm?" he mumbled.

Mandark almost fell on top of him. "Dex! Hey! Is the antimatter made up of antihydrogen particles or just positrons??"

Dexter frowned. "Whaa? Hydrogen..."

Mandark rubbed his face. _I'll kill that shadow,_ he thought. "Dex, come on... I know you're confused, and it looks like you've got a pretty bad concussion and probably a lotta other stuff but you have to tell me!"

Dexter groaned. "Hydrogen... antimatter particles. Hydrogen's the opposite of what I got. Right?" he asked, looking up at Mandark.

Mandark groaned. Smart as Dexter was, you knock a couple nerve cells out and it really messed the poor kid up, apparently. Although then again, concussions were caused by a strong force causing your brain to literally squish against the side of your skull, so Mandark didn't blame him. He looked at Dexter. "Opposite of what you got? As in... antihydrogen particles?"

Dexter paused, looking confused. "Yeah, I think that's right. Antihydrogen. Don't let it touch matter though... It'll explodaaahhhh..." The young genius ended that sentence with a large yawn.

Mandark sighed, watching Dexter. _Cute when he's confused..._

_Beep._

Mandark jumped again. "Damn!" he hissed, running back and grabbing the tiny bracelet. He carefully held it, carrying it and the antimatter it contained to the temp-pod. He set the tiny bracelet down in the middle of the ceramic floor, then hurried out, slamming the door behind him. _Okay..._ He ran around, searching for a control room. He pushed the door open and ran in, fingers flying over the console. _Antimatter. Opposite of matter. Antiradiation. Okay... let's review matter. Solid, gas, liquid, plasma, superfluidity, degenerate, and string-net. All right... we can pretty much cross superfluidity, degenerate, and string-net off the list._ He tapped the controls, trying to figure out how everything worked. He finally managed to seal the pod, just as the timer beeped again, announcing he only had one minute left. Mandark gasped, fingers flying faster. _Plasma... gas... liquid... solid. Okay... if it's antihydrogen... then which is it? Does antimatter_ have _states of... well, ANTImatter?_ He shook his head. _This is insane..._

He closed his eyes. _Hydrogen is a gas at room temperature... in fact, it burns at room temperature, highly flammable. Okay. Note to self- keep oxygen away from it. Don't want thermal reaction..._ He snapped his eyes back open. _So it makes sense that would be a gas._ He stared through the clear, thick separator between the pod and the control room. _So..._ He quickly began tapping the controls. _Freeze it? No, need to neutralize the current forces._ He squinted. _Current forces: Gravity. Thermal radiation. Electromagnetic radiation._ He clenched his teeth. _Set magnetic fields to maximum electromagnetic wave generation outward. That should help..._ He tapped the commands in. _Temperature. Neutral temperature... oh, goodness, hydrogen... that's about -427F..._ He tapped the commands in.

_Beep._

Mandark looked at the timer. His eyes widened. _What? No... no, no, NO!_

_Beep._ The timer's numbers clicked down to 0.03.

Mandark almost yelled. He jumped up, forgetting the controls and pressing his fingertips against the divider.

_Beep._ 0.02.

Mandark turned and ran back to Dexter, curling his own body around the other genius' as the timer emitted its last beep, and the world exploded in white and pink.


	12. Chapter 12

Mandark woke up with a pounding headache. There was a light filtering in through a small point, which did little to soothe his head. He was laying on something warm and soft, like... He tried to think of an analogy. Like a... bunny! Mandark smiled, pleased with himself, before realizing that may not be the first choice of wording for someone of his intellectual status. He frowned, trying to come up with something better. Like... Eh. He gave up, choosing instead to press himself closer to the source of warmth.

The warm source made a pained noise and wriggled slightly. Mandark shot his head up, hitting it on something hard. "Ow ow..." he muttered.

"Mandark?!" someone yelled. Mandark winced.

"Nnh," he groaned.

"Mandark! Hey! Keep talking!!"

Mandark squinted one eye open. "Fine, fine. Who... who's there?" he mumbled.

Suddenly, something was pulled back from above him. "Mandark? There you are!!" A distorted voice, then a flash of green, and someone was gently prying his hands from the warm source. "Hey, come on..."

Mandark squinted. "Ben?"

"Yeah, it's me. Goodness... you okay? Hey, somebody take him!" Ben yelled. Mandark felt himself being shifted into someone else's arms.

"S'okay, I can stand..." Mandark grumbled. Whoever was holding chuckled and set him down on his feet. "I know. But you probably will find it a little hard to balance."

Mandark wobbled a little, and the person quickly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He glanced upward, shocked to find Professor P. L. Utonium himself helping him.

"There ya go," the professor said softly. "Take it easy. Ben, you got Dexter?" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Yeah... but you might want to get Alisha over here pronto," Ben yelled back. Mandark felt the professor stiffen.

"Who's Alisha?" Mandark asked, then coughed, swiping his tongue around the inside of his mouth, coated with dry grit.

"She's a medical genius. The innovations she's done for medical science rival only those of Dexter himself," the professor said, eyes glinting. Then he returned to his somber state. "Although if- never mind," he said. "Let's just get you to the medical ward."

Mandark looked down, noticing the edge in the Professor's voice as he walked alongside him. "I'm sorry."

The professor glanced down, looking surprised. Mandark himself was surprised the words had left hims mouth so abruptly. "For..."

Mandark sighed. "All this? Ow..." He quickly pulled his bad hand back to avoid touching anyone else helping on the scene.

"You aren't the one who did it though," the Professor said. "That copy did."

"I... know that," Mandark said in clipped tones. He didn't say anything more.

"Can you use the stairs? The elevator still isn't working."

"Sure." Mandark clenched his fingers against the pain brushing the new bruises and scrapes as they began up the stairs.

"Fifth floor is where Dexter's medical ward is," the professor murmured softly as he helped Mandark up the stairs.

Mandark nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They kept their silence until reaching the fifth floor, although Mandark was beginning to get a little winded from all the climbing. Upon walking inside, Mandark would have expected to see the KND or someone who worked for Dexter, perhaps, although all he saw was a couple hospital beds and two people in white coats.

"Those are Alisha's friends," the Professor told him. "Alisha's a good friend of Dexter's, which is why they're even allowed in here." There was almost an amused tinge to his voice as he said that.

Mandark nodded, beginning to step away and then grabbing back onto him as his knees nearly gave way. The professor chuckled and led him over to one of the beds, sitting him down on it. "I won't make you lay down, but don't get up, okay? I have to go check on- um, everything else," he said, hastily adding the last part. Mandark nodded, deciding now wasn't the best time to press things. As the professor left, he closed his eyes, turning and sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"Everything all right?" a crisp, accented voice asked him.

Mandark looked up. "Huh? Oh... yeah," he muttered distractedly, staring up at the dark-haired nurse.

"Well, if you don't mind..." She gently reached over and took Mandark's injured hand. "What happened here?"

Mandark shrugged. "I fell."

The nurse grinned. "I'm sure you did." She began to unwrap the bandages, methodically undoing the Velcro straps on the brace. She pulled the brace off to the side, then began to unwrap the slightly red-stained gauze beneath it. She frowned. "Some fall you took, eh, kid?" Her eyes widened as she pulled the gauze away to reveal the stabbed wound through his hand.

"They say not to run with scissors," Mandark mumbled, pretending to be embarrassed.

"You're right, and now you see why," the nurse said briskly, smiling at him. She reached over and pulled a small tray toward her, sitting down on a tall chair next to the bed. She began to diligently clean the injury, taking care to cause as little pain as possible. Mandark settled back onto the pillows, relaxing a little. "So what's your name?" the nurse asked.

Mandark glanced at her. "Er... Alexander," he said hastily. _Alexander's a good name. That's believable._

The nurse nodded. "Well, Alexander, looks like you were pretty lucky. Those scissors you must've fallen on didn't break any of the bones, just went through tissue, although it looks like impact alone broke your wrist. When did this happen?"

Mandark pretended to think about it. "Um... a week ago or so?"

The nurse nodded. "Looks like it could be healing up a bit better, but that's good. Where did you go to get this fixed up?"

Mandark froze. "Uh..." He thought quickly. "My dad's a, uh, doctor," he said.

"Well. He did a good job of bandaging this up. Looks like you got it stitched up and everything," she said, grabbing another cotton swab.

"Yeah, he's, uh, good with- stuff like that," Mandark said, watching her movements.

"Mm. So. What were you doing here?"

Mandark sighed. "I noticed Dexter wasn't at school, and he almost never misses a day. I called his house too, but he wasn't sick, so I came here to check on him."

The nurse smiled again. "In the middle of the day?"

Mandark shrugged. "Why not?" The nurse laughed.

"Hey." Ben walked up to the bed, causing Mandark to jump. The nurse made a noise, then went back to cleaning his hand.

"Hi," Mandark muttered. "What're you here for?"

"You," Ben said smoothly, pulling a chair over. "What the hell are YOU here for?"

Mandark gestured toward the nurse who had taken it upon herself to see to him. "If you haven't noticed, I am injured, Ben."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Not that, genius," he snorted. "Why are and/or were you here? At all?"

Mandark sighed. "Checking on Dexter."

Ben narrowed his eyes. "Right."

Mandark stared at him. "Do you not believe me?"

Ben's expression didn't change. "No. I don't."

Mandark rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, alien."

Ben bristled. "Excuse me? I-"

"Ben." The professor walked in. "Don't worry about it. Go help see to Dexter."

Ben gave Mandark one last glare. "Very well. I'll see you later," he hissed to Mandark, then walked out rather stiffly.

The professor sat down in the chair Ben had abandoned. "Well now," he said.

Mandark didn't say anything until the nurse poked his hand with a needle. "OW!!" he yelped. "What was that for?!"

The nurse held his arm in a death grip. "Hold still, smart one," she told him, carefully pushing a needle further in his skin. Mandark clenched his teeth, trying to keep his hand relaxed. The nurse pulled the needle out as quickly as she had pushed it in, then set the needle on the tray. "Goodness. You're a little squirmy," she said. "I have to redo the stitches, you tore them up."

Mandark groaned. "Hate needles." He sighed as a numb feeling spread over his hand, muting the pain.

The professor chuckled. "Don't we all," he said lightly.

Mandark sighed. "How's.... everything going?" he asked, rethinking what he was going to say before it came out.

The professor noticed his pause. "If you're asking about Dexter, just say that," he said, grinning tiredly. "He's going to be perfectly fine. Cracked rib, injured eye, other assorted bruises and scrapes as well as a concussion, but... he'll be fine."

Mandark couldn't help but utter a sigh of relief. He relaxed, sinking into his pillows, not having even noticed tensing up. "That's good. Ow." He made a face as the nurse began to work on redoing the stitches.

The professor sighed. "Indeed. Dexter's pretty hard to kill," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Mandark was silent, staring out the artificially-lighted window. He exhaled thickly.

"Don't worry. Dexter's usually very good at listening, even when it seems he doesn't, assuming you don't let him walk all over you," the professor said, laying a hand on the pillow. Mandark nodded, still keeping up his regime of silence. The professor smiled one last time, then stood and walked over to the door. "I'll be back later, okay?"

Mandark nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it and nodded again.

The professor smiled knowingly, then slipped out the door.

Dexter opened his eyes painfully. Something was pressing heavily against him, and a bright light was shining into his eyes. One of his eyes, he reflected. The other he couldn't open, and something wet was trickling down his face. Suddenly the thing pressing against him moved closer, squeezing him. He tried to speak, but his throat was so dry he merely managed to get out a squeaking noise. The thing pressed against him shot up, making an "ow" as a dull thud sounded.

"Mandark?!" Dexter winced as a loud shout rang out.

"Nnh," said the thing still pressed against him.

"Mandark! Hey! Keep talking!" Dexter tried to say something, but ended up coughing again.

"Fine, fine. Who... who's there?" said the thing.

Suddenly, light spilled out as something was pulled back. "Mandark! There you are!" Dexter felt someone prying the thing off of him.

"Ben?" asked the thing.

"Yeah, it's me. Goodness.... you okay? Somebody take him!" Dexter almost hissed, trying to cover his ears and closing his eyes. He heard people talking, then someone was gently tugging his hands down. "Dexter?"

Dexter kept his eyes closed. "Mnh?"

Whoever it was released his hands, yelling a "Yeah, but you might want to get Alisha over here pronto."

_Alisha?_ thought Dexter. _Why is she here?_ He heard footsteps, then someone pried his eyes open. He saw a blurry white-and-black figure peering down at him.

"Eyes dilated. Dexter, can you hear me?" Dexter recognized Alisha's voice.

"Mmhmm," he mumbled, then coughed.

"Throat's dry... okay, Dexter, just nod or shake your head. Do you know where you are?"

Dexter sucked a breath in, then tried to look around at his surroundings, which was difficult when you didn't have glasses and one of your eyes wouldn't open. "Nnh... no," he forced out, before remembering he was supposed to shake his head.

"Okay." He heard someone scribbling. "Concussion, looks like. His eye got slashed as well." Something poked his side, and he yelped. "Broken rib, too, along with a bunch of bruises and whatever." The click of a pen, then someone gently placed a hand on his chest. "Wait here, Dex. I'll get the professor."

"No need. I'm already here." Someone slipped something onto Dexter's face- his glasses. He snapped his eyes open as much as he could, sighing as everything came into sharp relief.

Alisha was leaning over him, as was the professor and Ben. "Dexter, how are you feeling? Anything else hurt?" Alisha asked.

Dexter paused, taking a quick inventory, then opened his mouth, shutting it quickly afterward and shaking his head.

"Okay. Good." Alisha stood up quickly, signaling to someone. Dexter groaned, trying to sit up.

"Dexter, lay down!" Ben snapped, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dexter stared up at him.

"Why do I need to?"

Ben shook his head. "Dex, you're hurt. Wait until someone comes."

Dexter shook his head too, moaning slightly as everything began spinning. He raised a hand and moved it in a circle.

"Dizzy?" Ben guessed. Dexter nodded. Ben sighed. "I'll be back in a little. Keep an eye on him, Alisha."

"Okay, here, come on..." Alisha returned to the scene, slipping an arm under Dexter's shoulders. He winced, and with a slight "ow" allowed himself to be pulled up. Alisha motioned for someone to help support him on the other side, and the professor quickly hurried to do so. Dexter closed his eyes tightly as everything started to blur. He made a noise, hanging on to both Alisha and the Professor to keep from falling over.

The professor automatically took hold of Dexter beneath his arms, taking most of his weight. "Where to, Alisha?" he asked. Alisha looked up, then sighed. "He's not in any condition to go up stairs, so until we get the elevator fixed, we'll have to set somewhere up here. Too bad that magnetic one doesn't come to this floor, but I know, I know, the antimatter might've messed it up."

"Third door on the left," Dexter muttered, wishing he could cover his right eye, which felt as if the light was jabbing into it with knives. "I mean... right hall. Left... no, right side. Third door... right side. Keypass... only." He coughed again. "Here." He dug into his pocket, fumbling for something, frowning when he didn't find it. "Oval-shaped tablet-thing?" he inquired sleepily.

Alisha nodded. "We found that. It was on the floor by the electrical panel." She turned. "Someone get the oval tablet-thing. It's a keycard to the door! HURRY!" she called.

Dexter groaned. "Spinning? Like... merry-go-round!!" he exclaimed happily, giggling.

Alisha stared at him. "Concussion may be worse than I thought," she muttered. She took Dexter's shoulder again, helping him along the hallway along with the professor. Someone had already opened the door, and Alisha helped Dexter inside. "I'll get it from here," she told the professor. "Come back later after you've checked on everything else."

He paused, then nodded. "All right. Take care of him."

Alisha chuckled. "Don't I always," she said to herself. She quickly helped Dexter to a bed pressed against the wall. "Sleeping quarters, huh?" she asked him, not expecting him to answer. Sure enough, as soon as she helped him lay down, the young boy had already fallen asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Later that day...

Mandark peered through the doorway at the small redheaded boy lying on the sheets.

"You going in or not, _Alexander_?" a sharp voice- Alisha- asked. "I have things to do. Gwen's not... looking too good."

Mandark jumped. "Er, yeah..." He slowly slipped into the room as Alisha closed the door behind him. Lights off, the only light came from a dimmed globe in the far corner, casting pale shadows over both boys' faces. Mandark hesitated, then sat down in the chair next to the bed, minding his newly bandaged hand. He looked at the pale figure for a moment, surveying how badly he was injured. A bandage over his right eye and back of his head, various scratches, and a stitched cut that slashed diagonally across his face, not to mention whatever more bandages were under the covers. Mandark quickly shoved the thought away, then spoke up. "...Dexter?"

Dexter stirred slightly. "Nnh... whoaryah...?" he mumbled, trying to roll over.

"It's... Mandark."

Dexter's eyes flew open. "Hnnh?" He winced, settling back down on the pillows. "Wha'appened?"

Mandark rubbed his eyes. "Calm down, lay back down. Everything's fine..."

Dexter groaned. "Everyting 'urts." He frowned, licking his lips. "Bit meh tongue," he mumbled. "Wha... the... copy?!" he asked urgently.

"Not... not gone, but not here, don't worry," Mandark said quickly. "He's gone."

"Wha'... wha' did he try an' do?" Dexter asked, tongue still thick in his mouth.

Mandark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He... tried to kill us both, and Gwen. He sort of tried to put her in that temp-pod you have in there."

"Temp-pod? I don't have a temperathure-regulathory pod," Dexter said, tilting his head to one side.

"Well... we'll figure that out later. How're you feeling?"

Dexter sighed. "Horrible. Eye hurts... face. He slashed me with that- those- whathever they are." The new speech challenge with his tongue plus his thick Russian accent made his words near-intelligible.

"Spider legs. Yeah, I know." Mandark traced a finger over the stitches on the diagonal gash, counting them. "15 stitches."

Dexter's eyes crossed, watching Mandark's finger. "15? Hm." He reached up and grabbed Mandark's hand.

Mandark sighed. "Dex?"

"Yeah?"

"How much do you remember? I know you got a pretty hard blow to the head..." Mandark said hesitantly.

"I... yeah. Getting slammed into a wall by those... quasi-spider things is not..." Dexter scrunched up his face, trying to think of a word.

"Pleasant?"

Dexter shrugged. "Uh... yeah." He sighed, looking across the room. "So."

Mandark sighed, sitting there in silence. He continued staring across the room, mind going blank.

"Mandark?" Dexter glanced up at him, sitting up cautiously.

"Dex, lay back down," Mandark muttered automatically. "You're still hurt."

Dexter shook his head stubbornly. "What is wrong with you? You come in here, what do you expect me to do? You've barely even said a few things, besides something about a temp-pod that doesn't exist!" Dexter pulled his hand back sharply. "What are you thinking I'll do, fall all over you just because you were brave enough to save me? Well, great. You saved me. I thank you for that." He shifted his position on the bed a little to face Mandark more directly.

Mandark sat there, staring at Dexter. He then stared at the floor. "What do you expect of me? You trick me, push me away, nearly blame this whole break-in at the lab on me..." Mandark sighed tiredly. "You have got to be kidding me... I've put up with you for how long, secretly wishing that things could be more- I don't know, friendly between us, and you appeared to want that too." Mandark sat back. "Yet I still come back." He glanced over at Dexter. "I'm confused. Do you WANT to be shooting laser cannons at each other still? Because I can't read you very well."

"I'm not a book, Mandark," Dexter said, tilting his head to one side.

"I know that!" Mandark snapped. "You know what I mean, you're intelligent enough."

Dexter crossed his arms. "I know, Mandark. I just don't like phrases like that. Why would you _read_ a person?" He shrugged.

Mandark stared across the room again. "I guess it is a little weird."

Dexter shrugged. "I also... view things differently. Think differently, I guess you could say." He sighed thickly.

"What do you mean?" Mandark asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing really, just something Alisha told me earlier when I first woke up. She had to-" he motioned to his eye "do a little surgery there. She noticed something when she was trying to determine how bad the concussion was."

Mandark snorted. "So how do you see stuff now?"

Dexter paused. "What?"

"Your eye. Can you see out of it?"

"Oh... I don't know. Haven't been able to take the bandages off. That wasn't what I was referring to," Dexter said matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Um... Then what were you referring to?" Mandark asked.

"It's nothing," Dexter said, waving a hand, accent getting thicker.

"Really, Dexter. If it's nothing, then tell me."

"There- well, no, there IS something to tell..." Dexter said to himself. He uncrossed his arms, looking down. "Huh."

"Are you going to tell me or not? I'd prefer it if you did," Mandark said.

Dexter yawned, looking thoughtful and nodding. "Yeah, fits together, I guess. I'll tell you later." He laid his head back down on the pillows, closing his eyes.

Mandark looked at him. _What now...?_ He sighed again. "Dex?"

Dexter didn't open his eyes. "Yes?"

"Do you think... there ever will be... any hope between us?" Mandark's voice had lowered to a whisper.

Dexter was silent. He shifted a little, then cracked one eye open. He muttered something under his breath, then rolled over a little, choosing his words carefully. "I can't tell the future, Mandark."

Mandark sat back, pondering that. Taking the other boy's wrist, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dexter's, smiling as he felt the redhead's pulse speed up. After a moment, he drew back, lips grazing the redheads' nose. "Frankly, I'm glad you can't," he whispered, then left to let the young genius rest.

Next day now!

Dexter sighed, watching Mr. Green and Mandark come cautiously in through the door. "How are things going?"

Mr. Green sighed. "Good news and bad news."

Dexter groaned. "Great..."

"Good or bad first?" Mr. Green inquired.

"Does it matter so long as you tell me?"

"Good point. Bad because it's alphabetical."

Dexter rolled his eyes. "Pessimist."

"You would've had some snide comment even if I'd told you the good news first, Dexter," Mr. Green informed him.

"Don't I always?" Dexter muttered. "At any rate, news?"

Mr. Green looked sideways at Mandark. "Well, we've gotten some more insight as to what all happened that night..." Mr. Green paused, waiting for Mandark to say something, hastily clearing his throat and continuing when the dark-haired boy stayed silent. "The copy used some sort of antimatter-powered device to negate the radiation effect on you somehow without causing harm to himself, it appears. Mandark tried to stop it from detonating once the copy set the timer on it, although... it didn't work. Gwen was the ones who saved you- and pretty much the rest of the lab. However, although quite good for you and Mandark... that was an enormously large amount of energy needed to suppress an explosion of the likes of that."

"Proportional to the energies put into play by the antimatter itself. Rules of physics." Dexter shrugged. "Continue?"

Mr. Green nodded. "Proportional in the fact that I think it exceeded her limits."

Dexter paled, leaning forward. "Is she okay?"

Mr. Green hesitated. "Um... for now. The energy exceeded her limits, basically ripping the magic or whatever it is out of existence. Antimatter does that... and apparently her magic or whatever is made of matter. The sudden loss of something like that is not easy in any respect... She's in a coma." Mr. Green lowered his head regretfully.

Dexter sat listening until Mr. Green finished his last sentence. The young genius rested his back against the wall, looking at his own hands (also noticing for the first time he didn't have gloves on). "Isn't there anything we can...?"

Mr. Green exhaled thickly. "Not as far as we're concerned. Alisha's handling her current state exceptionally well, and.." He shrugged. "You know how Alisha is. She's just as much of a genius as you are when it comes to medical technology. Have you seen that new project she's working on? Well, not currently, there's too much going on, but..."

"Oh, yes, the lasers? Quite ingenious, I'll admit..." The boy stared off into space thoughtfully.

"Ahem? Good news?" Mandark muttered impatiently.

"Oh! Yes, good news. Alisha said you're well enough to walk around," Mr. Green announced.

"About time," Dexter grumbled. "Been stuck in here for long enough." He threw the covers off, letting out a yelp and yanking them back up. Ears red, he motioned toward the door. "Would you two mind, er..."

Mr. Green smirked. "Of course. Mandark? Ahem, I mean, Alexander?" He took the boy's elbow.

"What? Oh... sorry... yeah..." Mandark stammered, cheeks flaming red. _That name spread faster than anything._ "Yeeah." He quickly followed Mr. Green outside. As the door closed, he thunked his head against the wall. "Great," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Mr. Green looked at him. "Something up, Alex?" He smiled at the fake name.

"Hm? Oh, nothing..." Mandark slid down the wall. "S'nothing."

Mr. Green frowned, debating on either saying something or staying silent. He finally made up his mind, walking over to the dark-haired boy and sitting down next to him. "Alexander... Mandark. Really, what's going on?"

"It's nothing!" Mandark snapped, glaring at the green-skinned demon. He crossed his arms huffily.

Mr. Green suppressed the urge to flick the boy in the head. "If it's nothing, then tell me." In a quieter voice, he added, "You like him, don't you."

"NO! Are you insane?!" Mandark almost yelled, then realized how loud his voice was and quickly lowered it. "Of course not. That little insolent kid? Right. You must have those horns on a little crooked," he snarled, jumping up and striding across the hallway to stand there resolutely, arms crossed. Mr. Green sighed, standing up himself.

"So," Dexter said smoothly, stepping outside and buttoning his lab coat up. He frowned, tugging at the collar, then smoothing the front of it and taking a step forward. "Eh..." He wobbled slightly. "Stiff..." he muttered. Mr. Green took his elbow, helping him along.

"The damages are, surprisingly, not that bad," Mr. Green said, businesslike. "The explosion was powerful, but Gwen was- ahem, able to contain the worst effects of it," he said tonelessly.

Dexter allowed Mr. Green to help him, although he also took care to make sure it didn't look as if he was leaning excessively on the horned demon. "I suppose. It doesn't look like something exploded, that is for sure." He stepped over a small pile of rubble, Mandark following sourly behind.

"See? Temp-pod," Mandark said dully, pointing to the control attached to the wall, the airlock door, and the control room.

Dexter stared at him. "That's not a temp-pod."

"Then what is it?" Mandark asked snidely.

Dexter's eyes narrowed. "A miniature pressure-control room, idiot," he replied, just as snarky. He began to walk toward it, pushing the control door open. "Look."

Mandark followed the two inside. He took a look at the controls. "So?"

Dexter gave him a funny look. "What were you trying to accomplish, exactly...?"

"Stop it from exploding. I thought that maybe I could freeze the circuits or maybe even freeze the antimatter itself-"

"IDIOT!" Dexter shouted. Mandark jumped. "You can't freeze the circuits! That- that would cause the magnets keeping the antimatter in suspension to fail. You would have made it explode FASTER. And you cannot exactly freeze antimatter. That would not do anything. Antimatter is still antimatter. H20 is still H20 whether it is frozen or in the air you are currently breathing, yes?" Dexter's accent had gotten so thick Mandark had to pause to translate.

"Uh, I-"

"Shush," Dexter said tonelessly, turning to the window. "See these controls here?" He tapped a couple dials and a flat touchscreen.

"Yeah, but-"

"I told you to be quiet, did I not?" Dexter asked coldly. Mr. Green settled a hand on the redhead's shoulder, shaking his head ever so slightly. Dexter sighed and turned back to the controls. "Well. If you had moved your hand over and just tapped a couple codes into this terminal, you would have activated the vacuum and more than likely managed to prevent it from exploding until someone got here to prevent it." Dexter's intonation didn't change a single note the whole time he was talking.

Mandark's jaw fell open. "I... I could've... saved everyone?" he asked.

Dexter's eyes were devoid of emotion. "Yes."

Mandark slowly closed his mouth, then stared at the floor.

"Gwen would still be conscious, I wouldn't have gotten this cracked rib and the concussion would have been considerably less, not to mention your own injuries, which you do not appear to have suffered from immensely," Dexter continued smoothly.

Mandark closed his eyes. "I..."

"Go, Mandark. You've done enough here." Dexter didn't look up from the controls. Mr. Green's hand tightened on his shoulder, but other than that the demon didn't do a thing. Mandark's face fell visibly, then he regained what he could of his composure, then slipped out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

The door slammed open suddenly. "_No._"

Dexter spun around from shutting the controls down. "What?"

"No! No. I'm not leaving!" Mandark snapped. "I am not letting you run all over me!"

Dexter stared for a moment, then snapped his mouth shut. "Mandark, you do not have a choice. This is my lab," he hissed.

"Dexter, I had a part to play in this too. But you know what? Just because I didn't know doesn't mean you can blame me for EVERYTHING!" He glared.

"Mandark, your part just happened to-"

"SHUT UP!" Mandark yelled suddenly. Before Dexter could even take another breath, he crossed the distance between them, grabbing the redhead's collar and kissing him.

Dexter stiffened, but to both boys' surprise, he didn't retaliate. Eyes closing, he stood there, unmoving. Mandark took his hand, and Dexter slowly twined his fingers around the other's. Neither boy noticed Mr. Green quietly slip out the door, a knowing look on his face.

Mandark slowly pulled back. "Dexter, I still love you, you know," he said softly. He looked into bright blue eyes. "I love you, even if you don't love me back."

"Mandark, I…" Dexter looked down, pressing a hand to his mouth. "I… don't know what I feel," he said sadly.

Mandark sighed. "I know," he said quietly. "But, Dex… I have one thing to ask." He brushed a strand of hair out of Dexter's face. "Why did you play that trick on me, back at the park?"

Dexter's eyes snapped up. "Oh… that…" He made an aggravated noise. "I… thought that this was just another ploy to get into my lab, honestly. I see now that I was… not quite correct. I was trying to gauge just how dedicated to the supposed act you were." He sighed. "I, uh, I'm sorry about that…"

Mandark closed his eyes. "Dexter?"

"Yeah?"

"I will only forgive you if you promise to NEVER do that again," he said.

Dexter almost smiled. "Sure. I promise."

Mandark smiled, leaning in to brush his lips over Dexter's once more. "Good."

Dexter stood there, dazed for a moment, until he gave himself a brisk little shake and snapped out of his reverie. "Uhhh…" he mumbled.

"Dex?" Mandark sounded slightly concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" Dexter rubbed the back of his head. _Nothing makes sense. I… what is this?_ "I…"

"Dexter? What is it?"

Dexter's jaw dropped open. "Uh… I don't… know…" he said hesitantly, thinking hard.

"Are you okay?"

"Mandark, I… I think…" Dexter rolled his eyes. "Enough words. Let's find out." And for the first time, Dexter yanked Mandark forward and kissed him instead.

Mandark's eyes closed as soon as their lips met, mind clearing off all thoughts. Finally. After what had to be at least a few minutes, they both drew back slowly. "Dexter?"

"Mm?" Dexter mumbled, eyes still closed.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"I… yeah, I'm fine," Dexter said. "I just… don't think I… I don't know what to think."

Mandark nodded. "I know how you feel," he said, brushing lips together once more. "Confused. Surprised." Another kiss. "Even annoyed. Perhaps a bit angry." One more. "Or even upset."

Dexter looked up at the taller boy. "I… yeah, that pretty much sums it up," he mumbled.

"Dexter?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you really that stiff that you won't accept the possibility that you could perhaps like another person that isn't of the opposite sex?"

Dexter pulled back. "You think my hesitation is solely that?" he asked, surprise- and a bit of annoyance- flickering across his face.

"Uh… maybe not the only thing. But I remember how hard it was for me to come to terms with my… er, whatever you'd call it." Mandark had turned so that his back was to the wall, sliding down it and pulling Dexter with him.

"Hm… I suppose. My view on things such as that is that they are what they are," Dexter said, allowing Mandark to pull him down next to him.

"I guess. That's how I finally began to look at it," he said, shrugging.

"Yeah. Hm… my main hesitation is just… confusion. Not about whether I'm straight or not, that I honestly could care less about… just confusion about…"

"Your feelings?" Mandark inquired.

Dexter sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah."

Mandark glanced up at the ceiling. "So you're confused about… how you feel about me."

"...Yeah."

Mandark continued staring at the ceiling. Don't let me be wrong in thinking that he may finally be feeling something, Mandark thought determinedly. "Dexter, really. Tell me." He ran a finger over Dexter's shoulders. "Are you confused, or just…" Mandark exhaled. "Phrases are always better in your head than out loud," he muttered, leaning over and slipping his tongue between Dexter's lips. He felt the other boy jump slightly with surprise, but as Mandark had predicted, the boy made no move to stop him. He slowly ran his tongue over the boy's teeth, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. "Does that feel good?"

Dexter took a rather shaky breath. "I…" He paused, trying to think.

"If you think too much, you aren't going to be able to tell," Mandark said. "Just tell me the first answer that comes to your mind." He leaned over for another kiss. "Good or bad?"

"Gh…" Dexter got out the first syllable before he went silent.

"Good," Mandark said quietly, turning and readjusting his body so that he was facing Dexter, who was still leaning against the wall. "Dexter, have you ever just considered living for the moment?" the raven-haired teen whispered in his ear. "Stop thinking of the consequences for a little." He shifted a little more, moving Dexter to his lap instead.

Dexter gave Mandark a look, still not making a move to stop him. He looked down, thinking about what his rival (was he still his rival? Seemed to be changing more to lover now) had said. He glanced back at Mandark, who was looking at him, apparently waiting for something.

"Mandark, I still… I don't know," he said quietly.

"Dexter, please! Just shut up and enjoy the moment!" Mandark said, a pleading tone slipping into his voice. "What is the worst that could happen?"

_Worst that could happen- you don't want to know. Realistically, falling in love with you…_ Dexter hesitated, then reached up, pulling Mandark closer and pressing lips together yet again. Tip of his tongue slowly prodding the other's lips, he pressed his hands to the other's shoulders as Mandark encircled him in a protective embrace.

"Dexter, just be yourself," Mandark said gently, then pushing his tongue against Dexter's lips.

_On second thought,_ the redhead thought hazily, _falling in love may not be all that bad._


	15. Chapter 15

Dexter strolled through the doors to his lab, head held high. Saturdays are so much more hospitable than Sundays, he thought absentmindedly as he brushed past the atrium to the elevator tucked in the hallway. He tapped his oval tablet against a small pad secured to the wall and waited as the hum of electromagnets started and a soft whirring noise accompanied the doors as they opened to reveal the interior of the elevator. "Good morning, Mr. Green," Dexter said, stepping inside and waving his oval tablet next to another pad, which caused a small LCD screen to light up. "Where are you headed?"

"Hm? Oh. Thirteenth floor, thanks," Mr. Green replied, sounding harried.

"Ah. Just where I was going," Dexter said, continuing with pointless small talk. "Anything interesting happen lately?" he asked as the elevator began to move.

Mr. Green smiled, then quickly regained his earlier, beleaguered demeanor. I know where you're going with this, Dexter, he thought. "A little bit," he said. "For one, there's a few reports that the head of security wants on demon magic. He keeps wanting me to give him a demonstration of 'the full extents of its opportunities,' which really could mean anything from having a polite interest in my abilities to wanting to use me as a war machine."

Dexter chuckled. "Good luck. Anything else?"

Mr. Green sighed. "You've got a report due to me in two days."

"I know that. I've already finished. It's seventeen pages long."

"Font size?"

"You know I don't resort to cheap tricks like that. Tahoma, size 10, single-spaced."

Mr. Green whistled. "You went from Times New Roman, size 12, to Tahoma, size 10?"

Dexter shrugged. "You said you didn't want another, uh, what was your phrasing… 'Twenty-page report where you pick apart the meaning of what I'm asking while raising more questions than I'm trying to get you to answer,' was the statement, I believe."

Mr. Green shook his head. Dexter had recited his analysis of the last report the young boy had given him word for word. "I think those were the correct terms, yes."

"But reports really aren't all that intriguing. Surely there's something else?" Dexter persisted.

Mr. Green thunked his head on the side of the elevator as the doors whooshed open. _The kid's indefatigable, I'll give him that. Then, I can't even pronounce indefatigable._ "You're quite bent on getting the answer you want, aren't you, Dexter."

"Aren't I always?" was the redhead's answer.

Mr. Green chuckled and nodded. "Maybe I'll indulge you."

Dexter smirked, waiting for Mr. Green to continue. When he didn't the young genius tilted his head to the side as they walked past the hall and into the main room of the particular floor. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

"I may," Mr. Green said, grinning smugly.

"Mr. Green, might I remind you-"

"That you're my boss, etcetera, etcetera," Mr. Green finished, laughing. "I know the usual spiel."

"Then you should tell me, should you not?" The shorter boy looked up at the demon, an equally as smug expression on his face.

"Sure," Mr. Green said, sweeping around the young boy. "Why not? You and the raven-haired kid," he said, drawing his cape up and setting one hand on Dexter's shoulder, leaning in until his silver hair tickled the boy's cheeks, "swapping spit right there-"

Dexter scowled, reaching up and grabbing the green-skinned demon's horns. "I was just trying to get you to admit to me that you knew, not to- to-" he stammered.

Mr. Green yelped as he was almost pulled off-balance. "Careful there!" He laughed in spite of himself as Dexter hissed, pulling his hands back sharply to avoid spearing his wrists on the points. "Yes, I know. And also, FYI? I was trying to get a reaction out of you." He swept away, grinning at his student's dumbfounded expression, one finger raised in the air before the redhead finally had the sense to turn away, muttering to himself under his breath.

"Welcome back, Dexter." The cool voice of the computer greeted the young genius as he yanked a door open, throwing himself into the room.

"Thank you, computer. Computer, pull up all recent activity logs, please."

"Certainly. Right away," responded the computer as a window popped up on the wall-screen. Dexter squinted at it.

"Need a new prescription for these glasses," he muttered. "Where are those new goggles I've been working on? Computer, locate."

"Second-floor conference area," intoned the computer.

Dexter's eyebrows shot up. "Second floor? What on earth are they doing up there?" The redhead took his glasses off, squinting at the ceiling. "Bring the elevator down here, please, computer."

"Right away, sir."

Five minutes later, Dexter was hurrying along the hall of the second-floor corridor. He approached the conference room at a brisk walk, whipping the door open with a dramatic flourish. "Hello?" he snapped.

The person inside let out a strangled noise, jumping about a foot in the air. "D-Dexter!"

"Mandark?" Both boys skidded to a halt, staring at each other. "Uh… those are my goggles," Dexter said awkwardly after a moment.

"Wha- oh. Oh. Yes, yes, I know…" Mandark quickly pulled off the rectangular wire-framed glasses. "Sorry…"

"It's, uh, no problem," Dexter said with a cough, reaching out to take them. "I doubt you figured out how to work them anyway, it's a little complicated even for myself."

"Not really." Mandark pointed to a paper-thin triangular sheet of fiberglass extending from the right lens, pointing downward to cover the wearer's cheek. "Inside there is a microchip, to turn it on you have to use a laser-based beam to heat up the copper wire there until it completes the circuits."

Dexter raised his eyebrows, glancing at the glasses held in his hand. "A rather crude technique, I suppose, a little different from how I've been doing it, but yes." He held the glasses up to the light.

"The design of them really is excellent. The control system, the display, the GUI is excellent."

"Thank you. I designed it myself," Dexter said, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I know," Mandark said, voice becoming softer as he walked around the shorter boy. "Really, it is pretty good. You going to continue developing it?"

"Ah, yes, I do plan to. The whole idea of it would be quite useful…" Dexter trailed off as he felt Mandark's arm loop around his waist.

"Yes?" Mandark prompted, noticing Dexter's sudden stop.

"Yes, yes, I plan to develop it some more," the boy said hastily.

Mandark grinned. "You already told me that. Something about its usefulness?"

"Oh… oh, yes," Dexter said, ears turning red. "Yes, it would be quite useful, wouldn't it, especially since when I'm done it will hopefully have a wireless link to my computer in the lab, so… I'd be able to access my computer from anywhere, really…"

Mandark settled his chin on the other's shoulder. "Everything all right? You seem a little distracted."

Dexter couldn't help but give a small snort at that. "Mm."

"What's up?" the raven-haired boy continued.

"Mm… just… a lot of things. Gwen. The shadow." In a quieter voice he added, "You."

Mandark sighed, thinking about that last one. "Me?"

Dexter groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah."

"But I thought we'd-"

"Figured everything out, yes," Dexter said. "That is correct. However, things aren't really that simple sometimes… regardless of the fact that we have rid ourselves of one problem, there are others to be assessed as well."

Mandark nodded. "I can see that."

The two stood there for a moment until Dexter spoke up. "Mandark?"

"Yes?"

"You realize that this current… ah, situation, arrangement, setup, whichever name you wish to establish for it… is not permanent in any sense whatsoever?"

It took Mandark a moment to figure out what Dexter was talking about, and when he did, he didn't answer, just pressed their lips together, rubbing circles on Dexter's wrist with one hand. "Yes. Yes, I do. Really, Dex, stop worrying about the future so much," he said softly. "I am aware of the fact that one or both of us will eventually stop liking the other, or something will come up that will prevent us from continuing. For lack of a better phrase, I don't give a damn right now."

Dexter chuckled. "I know." He paused. "Frankly, neither do I currently."

"Keep it that way," Mandark said, kissing the other boy again. "Because I'm not going to get tossed around again trying to get you back."

Dexter laughed. "I don't think you'll have to." A smirk crossed his face. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Uh… sure, go ahead."

"Why did you have the goggles?"

"Oh. Uh… no reason," Mandark said hastily.

"Tsk, tsk. Honesty builds relationships," Dexter said poetically.

"I… er… was looking something up," he said. "Besides. I also wanted to see how genius-" a kiss, "and brilliant-" another kiss, "and stunningly excellent the design of those glasses was." Mandark grinned, then tilted his head to the side at Dexter's impatient expression. "What now?"

"You missed a beat."

Mandark paused, then smiled, leaning down to kiss him once more. "I can fix that, genius."

**El Fin?**


End file.
